


The Monster of Kalos

by The_Darker_Side_ofThings



Series: Life, Death, Man [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Illegal Activities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Darker_Side_ofThings/pseuds/The_Darker_Side_ofThings
Summary: After Colress goes to Kalos for alleged rumors of a Legendary Steel-Type, he finds another beast in which he is hellbent on figuring out exactly what it is, as it is Xerneas, Ylveltal, and Lysandre in an unholy freak of nature.With research, Colress tracks down an exhausted Sycamore, asking for help.Sycamore is not sure about this whole ordeal but goes fully on board when the monster escapes, knowing the authorities would overreact and possibly kill Lysandre, intentional or not. If Team Rocket finds him, well, who knows?Now, he and Colress must find Lysandre before the authorities or Team Rocket does.
Series: Life, Death, Man [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879303
Comments: 13
Kudos: 13





	1. He didn't Like That Very Much

**Author's Note:**

> At first, I was really nervous about publishing this. Then I remembered the Bee Movie exists, and the longer I think about it, the better I feel about myself.
> 
> May or may not have been inspired by HTTYD the whole time I was writing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture of Sycamore, done by me with Prismacolor. For some reason, the contrast was unnaturally strong despite my attempts to tone it down on Photoshop.  
> Took about three hours.  
> I'm going to definitely take advantage of uploading photos...

_"I am Professor Augustine Sycamore. This is my journal, which I hope will be found in one piece in case I am not. I may not survive these possibly illegal tests on someone I used to know. That someone is a man cursed as a monster. It's hard to explain, but I think he's just confused as I am. He's a terrifying freak, and I don't think he'll ever figure out what he is... who he is. Honestly, I don't know what to think. I was shocked when I first saw him... sometimes, I wonder, what would happen if I didn't pick up that phone..."_

_______________ 

The moon was missing in the nighttime sky, leaving only stars to shine on the world below. Nightmares were the only things that greeted Augustine Sycamore when he fell asleep, causing the professor to stay awake for days. It had been only a week after the showdown at Kalos when Sycamore's mind started to betray him. Lysandre would appear in his vision wherever the poor professor would look. Perhaps it could be blamed on the constant fatigue that weighed more onerously than his lust for sleep, but Sycamore wasn't safe even in his rest. Lysandre would be there like a shadow. He would be waving at Sycamore in reflections of mirrors, causing the professor to spin around and see nothing. He would be on book covers but would vanish when Sycamore rubbed his eyes. Anywhere he looked, Lysandre was there, eternally tormenting him. 

Sycamore would collapse asleep whenever he sat down, sprawling unceremoniously on a table as his body would succumb to the exhaustion. His dreams would shift to nightmares... 

"Please, leave me alone," Sycamore begged as he stood on a barren hillside. "No one deserves this." He was facing Lysandre, who was standing eerily still. The sky was raining thickly of blood that coated the two men, painting the dry ground red. 

"Kalos deserves this," Lysandre answered as fire erupted around him, giving him an appearance of hellfire wings that only grew hotter the bigger they got. 

The ground between them cracked open, and the scream of Yveltal reverberated throughout the land, shaking the ground and caused Sycamore's ears to burst from the tortured Pokémon's cry. "Stop it!" Sycamore screamed, covering his ears and doubling over as the ground quaked under their feet, sending the layer of blood to dance like hot oil. "Stop it!" 

"I will never stop until I get what I want," Lysandre said as he was standing over Sycamore, his wings of fire surrounded Sycamore like a dome. As big as they were, they did not make a sound as Sycamore slowly looked up. The light was all he saw aside from Lysandre's body, which wasn't affected by the blood rain. 

"I never have, friend." 

Without any warning, Lysandre let out a scream that rivaled Yveltal's as his body exploded, coating Sycamore in his entrails. The explosion was the same one Lysandre died in when everyone, including Ash, fought him for Kalos' safety. Sycamore was flung backward, flailing blindly in the air before landing on the ground. 

He jerked awake, eyes blurred as he fell backward and off his chair, landing noisily on the ground. His ears were still ringing from the hellish screams of death as he pulled himself up, heart ramming painfully against his ribs. 

"Just a nightmare..." 

Sycamore took a deep breath and held it, pushing his hair out of his face before exhaling. "Nothing more." 

He yawned tiredly, his eyes doing their best to close again, but Sycamore knew precisely what would happen if he slept. He had worse dreams than the one he just had but refused to think upon them despite having a precise memory on everything that happened. 

Still, the explosion was fresh on his mind, no matter what he tried to think of. He jumped awake countless times to the earsplitting blast, frequently screaming and clutching his heart. 

Sycamore looked at the clock, which read eleven minutes to midnight and let out a tired sigh. Ash Ketchum seemed all right given the trauma he been through. Why couldn't he be as stable as the kid? _Maybe it's because Ash didn't see his best friend turn into a monster, and did nothing until it was too late._

Why was he so stupid in not noticing the blatant red flags that were shoved in his face? _No, do not blame yourself. He's dead, and that's all. Your best friend is... dead._

Hot tears filled his eyes as he stared at his feet. _I could have done something about it._ Angrily, he smeared his face with his sleeve, wiping away his tears. _The lack of sleep isn't helping you. Just let it go already._

Slowly sitting back down, Sycamore grabbed the papers that were strewn haphazardly around the table and straightened them. 

_Distract yourself, Sycamore._

The words on the paper refused to form, no matter how hard he stared at them. They melted into a big mess of ink and ran off the paper, leaving it blank. The sheet was now empty and turned into snow that surrounded the professor, who didn't feel cold as he looked around in confusion. 

"Hello, friend." 

There he was, several feet away, standing like a statue in winter. 

"We are not friends," Sycamore spat. "We never were." 

"I know you're lying," Lysandre purred, placing his hands in his pockets. 

Sycamore's heart was fluttering in his chest like a scared Starly in a cage, and his ears burned as he glared into those empty eyes. 

The sky darkened just as it did before the explosion, and Sycamore's legs buckled as he knew what was going to happen, his saliva suddenly turning into sawdust. Breath hitching, the professor covered his head and braced himself for the sudden force to knock him backward. 

His heart seemed to stop with the time, and he slowly uncurled himself, hearing something muffled instead. Lysandre wasn't there anymore, but instead a vast empty winter land that was nothing but a sheet of snow as far as the eye could see, twinkling like diamonds. As Sycamore strained his ears to hear, the muffled sound was a ringing, faint at first. It was growing louder and didn't seem to be coming from a specific location, as the ringing was coming from every direction and didn't get louder or quieter wherever Sycamore moved to. The ringing was loud and crisp now, and Sycamore awoke to find his ear pressed on the table, staring at everything sideways. Stretching and smacking his lips, he turned to the sound source, which was his phone that was half-buried under some discarded notes. The number was not familiar. 

"' Ello?" Sycamore croaked, putting his phone to his ear and stretching again. 

"Hello, I know this isn't the best time to call," the person said on the other end. "But it took a lot longer than I anticipated to find your number." 

"Who is this?" 

"My name is Colress, and I know something that may disturb you." 

Disregarding this as a prank call, Sycamore pulled the phone an inch away from his ear and hovered his thumb over the End Call button. 

"I flew over to Kalos for research on rumors of a legendary Steel-Type, but after working on a lab, I found something that will shock you." 

Colress's tiny voice came from the speaker, and Sycamore snorted. 

"Shock me? Listen, _Colress; you_ don't know who I am or what I been through-" 

"Professor Augustine Sycamore, your friend Lysandre Fleur-de-lis is alive." 

His phone hit the ground before he registered what he heard. 

"That's impossible," Sycamore whispered to no one in particular, staring at his empty hand. He could see his phone on the floor, but it just wasn't registering to Sycamore that it had fallen, and he needed to pick it up until his clock chimed midnight. 

_No... just a prank caller. He's dead._

He knelt down and slowly picked up his phone, hardly daring to believe in the news he just received. Was he really going to consider some random person who was calling at midnight? 

"That's impossible. Lysandre died in an explosion. I saw it happen," Sycamore said numbly, hearing his voice get stolen by the empty room. 

"He knows you, Sycamore. I'm looking at him right now." 

"Put him on the phone, then." 

"I'm afraid I can't. You see, your friend isn't... himself." 

Sycamore snorted in disbelief. How stupid he felt for actually getting riled up about this. 

"I'm serious, Augustine. He's behind a glass barrier. Even if I tried, I can't put him on the phone." 

"Glass barrier?" Sycamore mused, leaning against the wall. Despite wanting to hang up on this nonsense, he didn't mind the slight flare in his curiosity, delightfully unsure where this conversation was going. "And why is he behind a glass barrier?" 

"Because he's not human." 

"Of course not. If Lysandre were in one piece, I would be very concerned. He's dead. Blasted apart." 

"Listen to me, Augustine!" Colress snapped on his end. "I wouldn't be wasting my time if I didn't find anything important!" 

"And this is important?" 

"Yes! He doesn't like me very much, and I need help!" 

"What makes you think he will work with me?" 

Colress's voice was heavy when he spoke. 

"Your picture is the only one he doesn't growl at." 

The call was silent for a while on both ends. 

"Who are you and what are you playing at," Sycamore snarled, eyeing the window as if Colress was standing on the other side, watching him. 

"I'm not playing," Colress answered. "Lysandre is alive, but something happened to him, and he doesn't seem to trust me very much. I don't blame him, though, I had to do a lot to keep him contained. He doesn't seem to engage in combat a lot. I honestly think he's afraid." 

Sycamore looked at his phone as if it were about to sprout legs and crawl away. 

_"What?!"_

Colress spewed his lab's location, which Sycamore hastily wrote down while brewing himself the most robust cup of coffee ever to exist. Slipping on his jacket, mug in one hand and directions in another, Sycamore ran to his car and sped down the empty streets, staring ahead with a solemn expression while drinking his coffee. 

_Lysandre alive? Impossible..._

He parked his car alongside the forest, which looked almost welcoming despite the dark emptiness that lingered like a thick fog. He brought a flashlight and navigated through the woods with nothing but his humming to accompany him. It was quite a walk before the light of his flashlight shone a building in the distance. 

"No way..." Sycamore whispered to himself, his shoulders dropping a few inches as he stared in disbelief. "Chapman's Research Lab?" 

His feet guided him like a seeing-eye dog as he examined the lab, which looked like it was restored significantly since the last time it was left derelict. 

Someone opened a door, flooding the dark outside with light. 

"Professor Augustine!" Colress called out, waving his hand over his head as if he were flagging a taxi. Sycamore drifted over, still in disbelief at what he was seeing. Colress shook his hand, explaining how he came from Unova for research or something like that. He wasn't really listening to Colress's story or how he found "Lysandre," or what he was warning. 

"... Don't scream," Colress said, exasperated as Sycamore was guided into a bright room. The lab looked phenomenal as if it was never abandoned. Bright lights lined the ceiling with a radiant, white glow that revealed the machinery that was humming with life. Screens crammed with information were flickering, while several tools used for Pokémon were strewn on a long, metal table. Nets and snares were shoved in a corner, while vials upon vials were lined up neatly on a shelf. But what Sycamore was staring at wasn't the lab itself, but the thing laying behind the glass thicker than a Bastiodon's skull. 

"Is that... him?" Sycamore choked; his voice stuck somewhere in his throat and didn't seem keen to leave. 

"Yes." 

The beast turned its head and saw Sycamore, slowly standing up. 

_This isn't Lysandre. This_ can't _be Lysandre. It's like a Sphinx, no, a manticore without wings..._

The only thing Lysandre-like about the monster was its face. His hair surrounded his face with the orange beard and mane, but his eyes were alert and wide and didn't reflect the personality he held. Protruding out of his mane of hair were two single thin horns of Xerneas's antler, although they held no extra colors. Blue fur sprouted out from the bottom of his neck, forming a "W" crest on his chest. Ylveltal's gray cloud of misty fur was around his shoulders and billowed wherever the wind guided it. His entire torso was a deep red as his arms were Ylveltal's wings; the black, deadly claws his fingers. From his waist down, it looked like Xerneas's share. Black, powerful deer legs with pale blue hooves paced the smooth floor. Running down the center of his chest was a blue line of long fur that merged into his tail, not unlike Mewtwo's design. However, his tail was a mixture of Ylveltal and Xerneas's: it had Ylveltal's design, with the black horns on end. The top of his tail was black with a pattern of two blue diamonds, while the bottom was blue, and a large tuft of fur was growing out from the middle of the base of his tail. 

He looked like he challenged the height of a Golurk or Scolipede, depending on how he was standing, but reminded Sycamore of a Tauros when he walked, as he used his "hands" as front paws. Lysandre stood on the other side of the glass, looking at Sycamore with a look of a scared Pokémon, which hurt Sycamore's heart when it strummed. 

"Who... what is he?" 

"I don't know," Colress admitted. "It looks like the body couldn't decide who was more dominant and halved the two legendary Pokémon. I don't know if it has his brain since it's the human head." 

"Why did you bring me here?" Sycamore heard his own shocked voice ask. 

"I need your help. I need to figure out more about him before he's discovered-" 

"You mean no one knows he exists?!" Sycamore interrupted, tearing away his gaze to look at the scientist. 

"I know this looks bad, but hear me out," Colress said, raising his palms defensively. "He could be dangerous, and he could bring harm to those around him. If he has Ylveltal in him, then he controls death. Now, he also has Xerneas so that he may bring life as well. I do not know what he is capable of, which is where you come in. I need to figure out what he just exactly is." 

Sycamore looked at Lysandre then back to Colress, suddenly feeling cornered. 

"You could get your friend back." 

"He's not my friend." 

Colress quirked an eyebrow but said nothing as Sycamore looked torn between leaving on the spot or staying, nervously rubbing his chin. 

"How long was he in here?" 

"Not too long, about two or three days. Won't eat, either, so I guess he's more like the legendary Pokémon than a person." 

"What do you plan to do?" 

"Get him the help that he desperately needs." 

Sycamore heaved a deep sigh and looked over at Lysandre, who was pawing at the glass. 

"Ok," he succumbed, running his hand through his hair and closing his eyes. "Ok. Ok. I'll help. But I will not be afraid to report you to the authorities if this will get too out of hand." 

"Excellent! Now, let's begin!" 

Colress looked at Lysandre, lifting a small machine to his mouth. 

"We're going to experiment on you, now. Please understand this is not made to inflict pain but to understand you more." 

He clicked it off and turned to Sycamore, who was looking quizzically at the scientist. 

"It's so he can hear me." 

Lysandre started pacing his cage, which Sycamore guessed was about the size of an apartment. It was a cylinder from the ground to the ceiling. 

Aside from the thick glass, there was nothing there to do. The floor was white and spotless, and, looking at the ceiling, were small vents for oxygen. 

"You said he doesn't eat," Sycamore said, looking at the vents. "How do you even get food to him?" 

"Weren't you listening when I said how I got him in?" 

"No, my body was in shock. Still am." 

"That's understandable; it's not easy to register that your best friend got merged with life and death." 

"He's _not_ my best friend! How do you know what we are, anyway? We could be brothers." 

"I had to do extensive research on him, and your name popped up. So, I looked you up. You worked with him in Lysandre's Labs, and you had no idea he was the member of Team Flare until after he-" 

"Ok, ok, I believe you. Just show me how you got him in this cage." 

Colress explained how he had brought a sleeping agent in case there was a legendary Steel-Type he needed to examine. 

"When I came across him, he was just as surprised as I was. I was able to dart him in and carry him with a trailer-" 

"Where did you get the trailer?" 

"It was left in the lab. It was broken, but I fixed it up. Good thing, too, because he's extremely heavy. Anyway, there's a garage door in the back, and I took him in. The glass cage opens to my handprint." 

"How did you make it read your hand?" 

"After so many years of neglect, I was able to reboot the system entirely, and the cage opens only to my command." 

"Show me." 

"Grab that, please," Colress commanded, pointing to a thick pile of chains on a metal table. Sycamore walked over and picked up the chains, and a thick collar dangled at the end. He was still looking at it while returning to Colress, who was holding a lethal-looking gun while standing at a control panel. He placed his hand on the panel, which glowed brightly as it read his hand, and the glass opened, raising into the ceiling to create a large doorway. 

Lysandre took the chance as the door was opening, bolting towards the opening, his hooves clicking elegantly while his front paws thudded loudly, making a very odd melody. The beast was charging right towards them, his feet making a melody of _click-click-thump-thump_ as he ran, and Sycamore instinctively covered his chest with the chains. Colress was ready; he raised the gun directly at the creature, and Sycamore was still transfixed at how fast Lysandre could run. He pulled the trigger, and instead of a gunshot, there was a loud pop and a hiss as a large, bright blue dart stuck Lysandre's arm. Colress grabbed Sycamore's arm and yanked him aside as Lysandre collapsed, skidding several feet out of the cage in a heap. 

Without the glass between them, Sycamore saw just how big Lysandre was. He felt like he was examining a sleeping Aurorus, except it had less neck and more legs. Completely shocked, he knelt and looked at Lysandre's face, the only thing human about him. Seeing Sycamore's expression, Colress leaned over and patted Sycamore's shoulder. 

"I know it's a lot to take in, but I thought you needed to see this." 

Sycamore mumbled, "It doesn't feel like this is really happening." 

"When was the last time you slept? You look exhausted." 

"I'll be fine. What's the first test?" 

"If he brings life or death." 

"So, if I touch him, I die or something?" 

"I don't know. Go outside and find a plant. Still alive and in one piece, please." 

"Why can't you do it?" 

"I guess I can," Colress admitted, walking and setting his gun down and swapping it for Sycamore's flashlight. "I have nothing to lose if I do. Do you mind?" He waved the flashlight, and Sycamore shook his head. 

"All yours." 

Colress left, as Lysandre was entirely unconscious for about an hour (he knew the effects of his own sleeping agent) and had no worries about Sycamore getting harmed. Besides, it wouldn't be too hard uprooting a plant. 

Sycamore watched Colress open a door and vanish into the darkness, the beam of his flashlight becoming smaller before the door closed. He started circling Lysandre, looking him up and down nervously as if he were a time bomb. Lysandre, however, was in no position to awaken any time soon as his sides rose and fell slowly.

"Can you hear me?" Sycamore asked, kneeling to look as Lysandre's face. His mouth was ajar as he was breathing quietly. "Guess you can't. You have been giving me nightmares; all the crap you put everyone through." He sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. "Why did you do it, though? Why did you make every suffer? I didn't even realize what you were doing." He hugged his knees. "I just feel so betrayed." 

The door opened, and Colress walked in, holding a large plant which roots were dangling from his fingers, sending specks of dirt to fall with every step. 

"He's big, isn't he? Took me forever to hoist him on that cart." 

"If you haven't touched him yet, how did you move him?" Sycamore asked, standing up. 

"Poles and ropes." 

Colress leaned over the beast and dropped the flower on his limp tail. They held their breaths, but nothing happened. With great care, Colress plucked the flower without touching the black fur and examined it. 

"I see nothing," Sycamore said as the scientist dissected the plant with his eyes, turning it this way and that. 

"Let's try another spot." 

He dropped the flower on Lysandre's arm. Nothing happened. 

Hesitantly, Colress leaned over, inhaled bracingly, and pressed his palm on Lysandre's lifeless form. 

"I feel nothing." 

Sycamore pressed his own hand against the red fur and felt nothing but the slow movement of breathing. If anything, there was a phantom tingling of dread. He removed his hand and gently placed his hand on the leg of Xerneas. He could feel a very distant feeling of joy, like knowing a memory of happiness but unable to properly recall it. 

"It's noticeable," he said, walking to Lysandre's middle and placing one hand on red fur, while the other black. His heartbeat was pounding, but he was too anxious to figure out if it was his own imagination, or it really was something happening by touching both Xerneas and Ylveltal. "But not by much." 

"Help me place him on this cart," Colress ordered as he wheeled a large cart over. Sycamore could see where the scientist made repairs on the wheeled platform. "Then, get the leash." 

It was tedious, but the two men (with the help of Colress's poles and levers) managed to lift the beast onto the cart before Colress wheeled him outside in the dark night, while Sycamore was holding the chains to his chest. 

"Where are we going?" Sycamore asked, thankful he drank his coffee as he wasn't feeling tired anymore. 

"Down by this little river." 

And Colress slowly walked down the grassy clearings with his flashlight to guide him, where they both walked in silence before the circular beam of light showed that they reached a patch of dead grass. 

"Why is the grass dead despite being next to a water source?" 

"I killed them. I need the grass to be dry and crispy. See that metal pole in the ground? Right in the middle?" The light was shown on a metal stake, tall as a sapling and thick as a tree. "Took me a while to get it in the ground so deep. Have to make sure XYL didn't escape." 

"XYL?" 

"It's what I plan on calling him. Xeneas-Ylveltal-Lysandre. I was also thinking of Lyxental, but giving things names were the least of my concerns. Plus, it sounds stupid." 

He took the chains from Sycamore and placed the collar around Lysandre's neck, tightening it appropriately. Sycamore watched as Colress had made many holes as he didn't take any measurements, which he had to assume the scientist didn't do so because he didn't want to touch Lysandre and die. 

"Why is all the grass dried up? To see if Xerneas will revive them?" 

"No," Colress said as he shoved Lysandre off the cart (Sycamore had to help) and attached the end of the chain to the stake. "But that's a good idea." 

The two were sweating and looked at Lysandre's unconscious form breath slowly in the moonlight. 

"This must be hard on you, Sycamore." 

"It's a lot to take in." 

The two stood there in silence. 

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing, Colress?" Sycamore asked, looking at the stars above. "Hiding this?" 

"If I told people, you know how much panic it would bring?" 

"I still feel like this should be addressed to the authorities." 

Lysandre's breathing stopped, and he gave a long sigh. His horns started moving, and he slowly lifted his head, blinking groggily. 

"Ah! He's awake! Excellent!" 

"What do you plan to do?" 

Colress fingered his pocket, pulling out a small container that Sycamore couldn't identify it as. He looked Sycamore dead in the eye as he flicked his thumb, and the cube set fire, reflecting off his glasses. "See if this beast can fly!" 

_"No!"_

He flicked his wrist, and the cube spun in the air, flames spiraling in the air, and landed right on the edge of the dead, dry grass. It instantly fed the fire that spread quickly. Sycamore had to stand back as the flames rose several feet, illuminating Lysandre's frightened face. 

"Fly, beast! Fly!" Colress shouted, but the fire was too loud. Forced to run in the grass's diameter, Lysandre started making an odd guttural sound full of panic, lumbering like a bear as the flames licked his underbelly and stroked his legs. The fire was under him now, and he did what he could only do. Crouching as low as he could with a blazing inferno below him, he leaped into the air and flapped his wings- and promptly crashed. 

"He can't fly," Sycamore said, panic filling his voice. "He can't fly!" He pulled out a Pokéball and out popped a little Squirtle. 

"Squirtle!" It chirped, immediately stopping as it stared at the fire, looking at Sycamore. 

"Water Gun! Now! Attack the base of the flames!" 

"Squirtle!" 

The little turtle ran as close as it could to the inferno, inhaled, reeled back, and shot a stream of water at the fire. It hissed and fizzled, and Lysandre was growing enraged at the chain at his neck that was preventing him from leaving. He lunged and pulled and strained, but would it would not give. He spread his wings open and started to flap, blowing at the flames. 

"Yes! Yes!" Colress shouted. "What move are you using, beast?" 

Sycamore watched and hatched an idea. 

"Squirtle! Stop!" 

The turtle looked at his master. 

"See his tail? Jump on it and go to his head. Hold onto his horns and blow the strongest Water Gun you can possibly shoot! Do it! Now!" 

Nervous, Squirtle obeyed his master and ran as fast as his stubby little turtle legs allowed, hopping onto the tail and somehow climbing his back (it was challenging, it was a wonder he wasn't flung off). He crawled through the billowy gray fur and reached his horns, grateful to have something secure to hold. 

Lysandre wasn't relenting, flapping his Ylveltal wings and causing the grass, both dead and alive, to bend and Colress and Sycamore to crouch, their hair blowing against the wind. Making his master's wishes, Squirtle blew with all his might he could muster, water shooting like a hose. The water broke apart with the wind, spraying the grass like rain and causing the grass to smolder, the flames shrinking down to embers. Poor Squirtle had to catch his breath as Lysandre stopped flapping his wings, pulling irritably against his collar and walking in the circle. He shot Colress a look of venom, and Sycamore felt goosebumps ripple across his arms as he saw the expression, thankful it wasn't directed to him. 

Squirtle jumped off Lysandre's head, but Lysandre caught the turtle with a giant paw before it hit the grass. 

"Squirtle?" 

He gently lowered his arm, setting the turtle to ground level, where it hobbled over to Sycamore, exhausted. 

"Get some rest. You did good," Sycamore said as he recalled Squirtle, who vanished in a beam of light. Everything seemed twice as dark now that the bright flames were gone, leaving only smoldering, black leaf blades in replacement. 

"He cannot fly," Colress said somewhere in the dark. "Interesting..." 

"The chain was too short," Sycamore growled, growing angry just watching Lysandre try to free himself. "Look at that; he couldn't fly even if he tried." 

"But he did try, and he couldn't fly." 

"He couldn't fly because he couldn't try." 

"He couldn't fly, you saw him try." 

"Stop-" Sycamore growled, putting up a hand to stop him. "This is a horrible idea. I should never have agreed to this. I'm setting him free, and you need to stop this." 

"Sycamore," Colress reasoned, walking over. "How can we find these things out? It's not like he speaks English anymore. Or French. We can't just ask him to do things." 

Sycamore turned away from Colress and walked over to Lysandre, who was trying to claw his collar off but was cutting into his neck instead. 

"Lysandre," Sycamore said calmly, feeling his heart thump his rib cage as he tried to look as unbothered as possible. "Can you understand me?" 

Lysandre stopped his clawing and looked at Sycamore blankly. 

"Can you understand me?" 

"Peux-tu me comprendre?" Sycamore asked slowly, gesturing. Something flickered behind those glassy lenses, but nothing happened. "Comprenez-vous ce que je dis?" 

Lysandre blinked slowly, his nose wrinkling as he was deciding whether Sycamore was friend or foe, rearing up like great brute. Forcing his heart to stay calm, but failing horribly, Sycamore chose to do the last thing he could think of- the sign of respect. Gritting his teeth as he exposed his spine and back of his neck, Sycamore bowed down on his knees, his hands in front of him as his face touched the ground. He couldn't hear anything and could smell the charred earth as he closed his eyes, really wondering if this was truly happening. 

The ground vibrated slightly as something huge fell in front of him, pulling away any beliefs of his hopeful fantasy that the Lysandre-monster didn't exist. Hauling himself to his knees, he could see Lysandre was unconscious once more. 

"I need you to help me move him on the cart," Colress said, holstering his dart gun. "There's still so much to do." 

Sycamore, very hesitant this time, helped hoist Lysandre onto the cart. 

"Do you dart him when you feel like it, or does he sleep on his own?" 

"He slept before." 

"Willingly?" 

"Yes." 

Colress was noticing how Sycamore acted so defensively. He knew the professor cared, despite never admitting it. The two lugged the burden onto the cart and wheeled him inside, the lab slightly colder. 

"He can't fly, but he might swim," Colress said, pulling the cart to his cage and removing the collar. "This cage is structurally designed to hold millions of gallons of water." He knocked his knuckles on the glass barrier, which hardly made a sound at how thick it was. "See that small drain on the floor? I'll block the pipeline." 

"You plan to _drown_ him?" Sycamore asked, eyebrows shooting up. 

"He won't drown if he can swim." 

With an enormous amount of pushing, shoving, and pulling, Lysandre was back in his cage, limp as a wet towel. Sycamore felt slightly anxious as the glass door slid closed, shutting the two men apart from the monster. Colress pulled a metal rod from the ground to stop the pipeline, which Sycamore thought was mighty convenient to have. 

"If he has vents for oxygen, why do you need a drain?" 

"Everything that eats needs to relieve itself." 

"You said he doesn't eat." 

"He doesn't." 

Colress started punching buttons on a screen, and, looking over the scientist's shoulder, he could see lit up squares marked with things like "Food," "Water," "Air Supply," and "Emergency Shutdown." Things of that sort. Colress poked the "Water" button, and, with a few adjustments, water started to pour into a bowl in the far end of the cage. 

"You gave him a water bowl, but no food?" 

"It was starting to rot, so I had to take it out." 

It took a surprisingly short time to fill the cage, and Sycamore found himself pacing multiple times. Lysandre woke up from the cold water immediately, jumping awake and looking at his feet, confused. It was already reaching up to his hocks, as he was standing on his hand legs. Sycamore had to assume he was at least nine feet, possibly ten if the horns were included. 

"What happens if he can't swim?" 

"Then I'll open the pipeline again, and he'll be fine." 

The water was already up to his waist, black fur swishing as he anxiously paced his rapidly filling cage. He was staring at them the whole time, to which Sycamore had to look away. 

"I don't think this is a good idea," Sycamore muttered, placing his hand on the cold glass. Colress didn't say anything. The water was already reaching his chest, and Lysandre started to climb the glass in vain. "This isn't going to work. Stop the water." 

"Not yet," Colress said. "We must find out the secrets this beast holds." 

"So what if he can or cannot swim?" 

Colress stopped with water with a touch of his finger, watching Lysandre flail in the water. Sycamore noticed his tail was too big and bulky when it got wet, along with his gray cloud of fur around his shoulders. While the deer legs were flat, they were not good enough for swimming, and his big wings were just too cumbersome. He sank several times before lunging desperately against the glass, which Sycamore secretly hoped would break as he watched the walls of water repeatedly spray the glass barrier. 

"Hm." Was all Colress said before pulling the metal rod, opening the pipelines, and draining the water, which felt like it took longer to empty. "Can't swim, can't fly, can't talk..." 

"Anything else you plan to do to him?" 

"No. Not tonight. Get some rest. We got some good progress recorded." 

Sycamore looked at Lysandre, who was looking at his wet fur, glaring. 

"If he has Lysandre's neck, does that mean he has his voice box? He should be able to speak." 

"That's what we'll work on tomorrow," Colress said, hastily writing down notes in a small field journal. "I must thank you for coming and apologize for the inconvenience." 

Sycamore yawned, feeling the effects of his coffee wearing off. 

"I'm not drying him off if that's what you need me to do." 

"No, that will be all. Get some rest." 

Feeling extremely drained, the professor somehow found his car after stumbling through the forest, driving himself home. Flopping down on his bed, Sycamore fell asleep right as he hit the sheets. His nightmares were softened, but still were just as graphic as every other one.

* * *

Sycamore started to visit the lab every day with a mug of coffee and at least ten hours less of sleep, arms full of empty notebooks, and half-full field journals. Every morning there would be a "Good morning, Colress," a loud yawn, and a long, somber silence that followed. Sycamore would stare into the glass cage at the monster (who was always curled up tightly, asleep), deliberately avoiding seeing his own exhausted reflection.  Colress would put his hand on Sycamore's shoulder, looking at the professor with an expression of wonder, silently asking Augustine if he could continue their work with a stable mind. Sycamore would nod, and their day would officially begin. 

From what they noticed, Lysandre had no memory of what he had done or somehow became this way. As far as Lysandre was concerned, he had been a Pokémon with the ability to express himself exceptionally well for his entire life. Sycamore didn't have the heart to brief his monster of a friend what he had tried to do to Kalos and decided it was best to keep it that way. 

While Lysandre was extremely wary of Colress, he was less tense around Sycamore and didn't growl as much when the two were alone, which wasn't often. Lysandre knew who exactly who tried to roast him alive and who tried to help him. 

What was growing more of a concern than any of their tests was Lysandre's thinness, and the two tried to work with it as best as they could but were unable to get him to eat, finally making it a more urgent concern one day to as the beast was looking alarmingly sick. His ribs became more prominent and were finally addressed when they took him outside his cage and outside to the forest. He was drugged asleep, unaware at the two men shoving his body off the cart and onto the grass. Colress put the beast's collar on and tied the chains, which had become several feet longer on Sycamore's request, to a tree. 

Sycamore stayed at Lysandre's side and ran his hand down the beast's ribs, feeling the ridges rise and fall under his fingers. He could even place each finger between each bone. 

"What do you think he eats?" 

"I don't know, "Colress said, resting against a tree and wiping his forehead. "I thought he would be an omnivore, you know since everything is pointing to that, but everything I give him, he turns down." 

"You don't think he eats Pokémon?" Sycamore asked, looking at the bony haunches of the best. 

"He doesn't eat Pokémon," Colress said dismissively, hastily writing in his field journal. 

"You don't think he has to eat them fresh, like, kill them himself?" 

"I don't think so. There's a Chesnaught that roams around here, but I don't want to mess with it." Colress pushed his glasses up, putting the journal inside his inner jacket. "Or the Pokémon it protects." 

"Maybe he wants human food." 

"I'm not setting up a table for him." 

"No, we don't have to do that. We can make Lysandre an actual dish people eat. We can see if he will try that." 

"Well, it's worth a shot." 

Lysandre woke up slowly, stretching and standing up on all fours. He looked around, nervously shifting as he instantly knew he wasn't in his cage. 

"Hey, Lysandre," Sycamore said softly, stepping forward. "Did you sleep well?" 

Lysandre swayed his tail and tossed his horns, and Sycamore saw Colress's hand disappear in his pocket, knowing the scientist was clutching his dart gun. 

"There's no need to panic, it's okay," Sycamore continued, feeling his heartbeat increase, speaking more so to himself than at Lysandre, who was emitting a low rumble somewhere from the back of his throat. "Nothing's going to happen to you." 

Lysandre's pupils dilated as he stared into the distance and ran in place for a second, getting a grip on the earth before he charged past Sycamore. His claws tore up the dirt as he bolted towards freedom, his face filled with pained longing as he was running towards freedom— CLANK. 

His tether had snapped to its full length, causing the beast to flip like a pendulum, his tail sending dust and grass into an arc that blew into the wind. He laid on his back with a heavy thud, staring at the sky with a shocked, unblinking expression. 

"Sorry," Sycamore said gently, kneeling over the beast who rose to his feet, shaking himself free of dust. "But me and Colress been noticing how thin you been getting." 

Lysandre looked down his skinny side then to Sycamore, narrowing his eyes, as if to say,  _ "What about it? _ _ ” _

"We're getting worried about your health." 

"Beast!" Colress called out, holding an apple. "Eat!" 

He tossed the fruit at Lysandre, where it bounced off his unamused face and fell harmlessly onto the ground, rolling a few inches away. He snorted and clawed at the collar, cutting his neck. 

"Come on, please?" Sycamore coaxed, picking up the fruit and waving it under Lysandre's nose. "Just a nibble?" 

Lysandre returned to the tree he was tethered to and sat down moodily,  positioned  like a sphinx. Sycamore walked over, taking a bite from the fruit and watching Lysandre's expression from the corner of his eye. 

"Mm! Delicious! Too bad you can't enjoy this scrumptious, nutritious, absolutely fantastic, um," Sycamore raised an eyebrow thinking of alluring adjectives. "Spectacular, uh, delicious...." 

"It's not working, Sycamore,"  Colress said dully , writing in his field journal without looking up. 

"Well, what are you doing, then?" 

"Recording everything. The beast can't swim, fly, or talk." 

Colress tapped the pages with a pen, looking at Sycamore, who threw the bitten apple away somewhere in the bushes . "But what about fighting?" 

"Against Pokémon?" 

"That would be ideal, but I figure we should start easy." 

Colress snapped the journal shut and thrust it into Sycamore's chest, who instinctively grabbed it. The scientist passed the professor, approaching Lysandre, who was standing on all fours again and pawing at the dirt, making a fair amount of depth. 

"Beast!" Colress boldly announced, pointing at Lysandre, who straightened up, the tip of his tail lashing the grass. "We test your fighting!" 

There was a deep rumble that Sycamore thought was a purr but saw that Lysandre's teeth were bared, and he was growling. Assuming he was just uncomfortable, Sycamore noticed Lysandre's eyes were locked on something. Following his gaze, the beast was staring at Colress's hand, halfway revealed from his pocket to be holding a gun. 

"Colress—" 

"Hush!" Colress didn't move, staring back at the beast as he held a hand towards Sycamore to prevent the professor from coming any closer. "He needs to know who is dominant!" 

Lysandre reared slightly, his tail lashing as Colress stared back into the eyes of the beast. Neither male backed down from their stand, the tension thickening between them like a wall of ice. 

"Now," Colress said coldly, unsheathing his gun slowly and causing Lysandre to snarl, squaring his shoulders. "Go to that tree, and strike it." 

Literally held at gunpoint, Lysandre approached the nearest tree, which was tall, sturdy, and extremely thick. He swiped at the bark, shredding off a layer that cluttered the grass when it fell. 

"With a move." 

Lysandre bared his teeth, growling louder. 

"Colress," Sycamore said, stepping over the chain to walk over to Lysandre. "I don't think this is a good idea." 

"Sycamore," Colress said coldly, lowering his gun. "We need to figure out these things about him. If he can fight well." 

"Why don't we try a gentler approach?" 

"What do you suggest,"  Colress said with sarcasm. "Hugs for every time he's a good boy? This is a  _ monster _ , Sycamore! We don't know  _ what  _ he is or  _ what  _ he can do!" 

Sycamore stood next to the beast, standing firm as his belief. He didn't know if he imagined Lysandre's growling softening or not. 

"He's Lysandre!" 

Colress lowered his gun, looking Sycamore in the eye. 

"Not anymore." 

The three were silent, looking at each other with somber expressions as if they just received news that someone they all knew just died. 

Sycamore looked at Lysandre, and, with a pained heartbeat, knew  Colress was right. The creature next to him was a monster that they knew nothing about. Was he dangerous? He could be. That is , if someone waved a gun in his face and commanded orders. But as much as he would hate to admit it, the beast wasn't Lysandre. 

But it was apparent that Lysandre hated Colress. Was it because Colress was asserting his dominance over Lysandre? Did he have both minds of Kalos' legendaries, and now they were angered to be stuck in the same body? Lysandre knew of Sycamore enough to tolerate him; would it be possible the beast would respond positively to touch? His touch? 

Sycamore was brought back to the present, finding Lysandre growling at Colress, who was writing in his field journal while facing the beast. Using the distraction, Sycamore slowly raised his palm to the red fur, holding his breath. He could feel the heat of Lysandre's body against his palm— 

"OW!" Sycamore cried out in pain as a projectile struck his back, more hitting his spine and shoulders. Colress was caught too, using his field journal to protect his face from a— 

"Seed Bomb?" 

Colress looked at the seed that damaged his book, lowering it to see a large Chesnaught glaring at the very odd trio. 

It didn't take any time to spare, lashing a powerful Vine Whip around Colress's legs, making the scientist fall over, his field journal landing next to him, the open pages against the dirt. 

"Colress!" Sycamore called out, running to the scientist. The Vine Whip was faster, lashing Sycamore's sides. The Chesnaught snarled at the two, summoning the vines from its body with such enraged force the Pokémon might have been trying to flog the men, even tearing a hole in Colress's coat. 

"Use your dart gun on it!" Sycamore shouted, holding a bleeding arm. 

"I only have one shot!" Colress shouted back, standing up. The Chesnaught roared, shooting Pin Missile from its body, the pins missing and hissing past, while the others lodged deep into the men's skin, drawing blood. 

"Use your Pokémon, then!" 

Sycamore reached for his belt while the Chesnaught charged at the two, enraged. Sycamore's hand hovered over his Garchomp's Pokéball, deliberately refraining from summoning his Pokémon. What if this is precisely what Lysandre needed? This could be his chance to help in battle. 

The Chesnaught was on top of them now, but Lysandre hadn't done anything. There was no time to check where Lysandre was— 

"Beast!" 

"Lysandre!" 

The two braced for an impact; Colress forced himself to his feet on unsteady legs that were bleeding harshly, while Sycamore raised his hands in a vain attempt to protect his face. Colress's legs failed, and the scientist dragged himself a few paced before looking at the Pokémon that was going to attack them, its arms thick as clubs raised to smash the men into the ground. 

"CHES—" 

The Chesnaught was slammed off course, rammed by Lysandre's horns as the beast charged right into its pathway, sending the Pokémon to skid and leave marks in the ground. 

"Chesnught!" 

Lysandre snarled his reply, tail lashing and sending dirt into the air. Sycamore stood up, holding a hand to Colress, who stood up slowly on his own. 

The Chesnaught lashed Vine Whip, wrapping them around Lysandre's horns and forcing the beast to move where he was guided. Lysandre reared, grabbing the vines and yanking himself free before slamming his front paws into the ground, sending a cloud of dirt around his legs. 

The two were having a stare-down, locking eyes and glaring, deep growls emitting from both their throats as they began widely circling each other, the chains dragging slowly in the grass and making the ground dusty as it plowed the dry earth apart. 

"Colress," Sycamore whispered, staring at the duel. He and Colress were standing in front of a thick tree that shaded the two. "We need to take off his collar. He can't fight like this." 

"And lose him?" Colress asked, watching the two get closer, Lysandre's leash now starting to get lifted as he was getting further from his post. "We still don't know what he is." 

The  Chesnaught was facing the tree that the men were standing behind, while Lysandre was at the end of his tether; the chain wouldn't go any further as he leaned against it, watching the Pokémon taunt him with its impressive build, snarling and growling. But the  Chesnaught could see Lysandre would not be able to reach him, as the hybrid was ten feet away from where it was standing. The  Chesnaught turned to Sycamore and  Colress and roared.  Colress ducked behind the tree, while Sycamore watched, transfixed.

_ They  _ _ were the real culprits here! Humans ruining nature again! They must be the ones to create this monster on a leash! They always ruin what is right!  _

Vines lashed from Chesnaught's body, shooting through the air like harpoons and whipping around Sycamore's throat and constricting his airway. Colress watched in horror as Augustine was lifted by his neck, his feet dangling in the air as the professor clawed at the tightening vines around his throat. The Chesnaught slowly raised Sycamore's flailing body, whose face was rapidly turning a deep shade of red. 

Lysandre was going  berserk ; he was ironically choking himself against his collar to free Sycamore from asphyxiation, running in place, and tearing up the dirt while straining against his obnoxious restraint. He bellowed and fought and kicked and lashed out in aggravated torment, but was unable to free himself and rescue Sycamore. He made a humongous dust cloud to form around him, exposing roots as he clawed desperately at the ground around him, and failed multiple times to break the chains with his talons. 

Colress had no Pokémon on his own, and what choice did he have? Ducking behind several shrubs, the scientist hurried to the raging beast's side, covering his face in the corner of his sleeve from the dust that threatened to take his vision. 

"Be still, beast!" Colress barked as he got as close as he could, avoiding any impacts from the beast's flailing extremities. "Listen to me!" 

Lysandre gave a feared bellow, watching Sycamore's now purple face screaming silently. 

"STOP!" 

Maybe it was the authority in his voice, or that Lysandre understood what Colress was doing; Lysandre pulled against his leash as hard as he could as Colress reached in his pocket and fished for the key, which took seconds to find as it was enormous. Standing on his toes' tips, Colress raised the key above his head and slid it into the lock of the collar, turning it. It fell at Colress's feet, dangerously close to hitting his head as the scientist stared at it, realizing this. 

He turned his attention to the beast, who was charging full-speed at the Chesnaught. He rammed the Pokémon's side, making it drop Sycamore, who fell to the ground in a heap and didn't rise. 

The two glared, locking eyes. Lysandre tossed his horns, snorting like a mad Tauros. Chesnaught thumped its chest and roared, jumping into the air and shooting Pin Missiles. 

Lysandre took the hit, using a broad paw to protect his face, before running on all fours with his horns lowered. The Chesnaught crouched, and when Lysandre was close enough, the Pokémon sidestepped his charge and grabbed his underside, flipping him into the air. 

Lysandre fell with a thud before rolling back on all fours, his tail angrily lashing. He snarled and reared, slamming his front paws violently into the dirt before charging again. The vines shot through the air like arrows, gripping Lysandre's horns and yanking his head sideways, forcing the momentum of his body to follow, and he rolled harshly into the ground. Seeds were hurled as projectiles into Lysandre's body, who rose to his feet and took off running in circles around the Pokémon, who kept its front facing him. The Chesnaught smiled, and lashed its whip around Lysandre's golden hoof, pulling back and making him trip and fall. 

"Sycamore?" Colress asked, patting the professor's face. 

"That hurt...." Sycamore  groaned; his voice hoarse. "The  Chesnaught ...." 

He sat up suddenly, flinched, then collapsed onto his back, bringing a hand to his head. "Ugh." 

"It's alright," Colress reassured, standing up. "The beast's got this." 

"Lysandre?" 

Sitting up slowly this time, Sycamore's jaw dropped as he watched the battle take place right in front of his eyes. 

The Chesnaught, who saw Sycamore rise, snarled at the disgrace of humans to blemish his forest and charged at them. 

Lysandre rose to his feet, running ahead and cutting the Chesnaught off its path, his back to the men, and reared, exposing everything vulnerable to hopefully intimidate the Pokémon into submission. The Chesnaught instead called Lysandre's bluff, grappling the stag legs and forcing the hybrid to fall over, who dug his talons the best he could into the Chesnaught's shell, scraping the steel protection that encased the Pokémon's back. 

The two rolled on the ground, biting, clawing, and doing anything to get the upper hand while wrestling noisily, grunting and groaning and snarling while crashing into trees and flattening shrubbery. Lysandre tucked his stag legs to his body and kicked the Pokémon into the air, sending it to fly several feet away before landing on its feet, skidding. 

Lysandre snarled at it, baring his teeth while keeping himself between the men and the  Chesnaught , refusing to expose his spine to the enemy. The Pokémon charged at the beast. It was absolutely furious that this— this  _ thing  _ would usurp the forest's guardian! And defending these wretched men! 

Lysandre rose a paw to strike at the Pokémon's head when  it c ame close, its Tackle threatened to break ribs as it sent Lysandre with ease into the air, causing the beast to slam into the tree that Lysandre and  Colress were taking refuge at. They jumped away in time as the quarter-ton beast smashed into the ground, crushing the plants that were growing by the tru n k. 

The  Chesnaught shot a Seed Bomb attack at them, refusing to yield to these men and their pet, while Lysandre did not succumb to the attacks, not wanting another attack to strike the  humans . He was protecting them, while the  Chesnaught was attacking them. 

"Lysandre," Sycamore coughed. Lysandre didn't turn his back to the enemy, but he looked over his shoulder to look at Augustine, concern in his eyes. "I'm alright, buddy. We need to leave." 

Lysandre yelped in pain as the  Chesnaught used his distraction to full advantage, grabbing the beast's body and raising him into the air. Lysandre kicked and flailed, but the  Chesnaught was holding his side and arm tightly . Lysandre used his tail to block the  Chesnaught's view, covering the Pokémon's face. The  Chesnaught roared, throwing Lysandre into the ground and causing the earth to tremble. 

Seeing that the beast was down, it turned to the two men, anger in its eyes. Sycamore felt for his Garchomp's Pokéball, watching the Pokémon approach like a deadly knight going to deliver the final blow. 

Lysandre bear-hugged the Pokémon from behind, picking it off the ground, carrying it away from the humans as he used his tail for balance. He started to spin to gain momentum, the cloud of gray fur billowing viciously in the air as Lysandre picked up the speed, holding onto the Pokémon by the s hell , spinning as fast as he could before letting go. The  Chesnaught flew in the air before crashing into a tree, its hard shell keeping it safe as it smashed bark off the truck, which toppled into the grass. The Pokémon rolled several feet away, before rising to its feet. 

Sharp Pin Missiles were launched off its body, embedding into Lysandre's fur and skin, who retaliated and charged through the attack, grabbing the sides of the Pokémon and tackling it. The Chesnaught grabbed Lysandre's throat and shoved him back, rising to its feet. 

Lysandre spun, using his tail to smash the Pokémon's face, using its momentary distraction to contract his hind legs into his body, and bucked with his sharp, golden hooves into the Chesnaught's stomach, sending the Pokémon to be launched backward. Without a second to lose, he charged at the Chesnaught and slammed his horns into its body, ramming it with a loud crack. 

The Chesnaught roared, rising to its feet, and lashed Lysandre with Vine Whip, again and again, the vines cracked the air and struck his body. They tightly wrapped around his throat, immediately cutting off any oxygen. Lysandre grabbed the vines, pulling the Chesnaught closer before clawing at its face, impaling the skin with a sharp, deadly talon. The vines retracted into the Pokémon's body, who charged at Lysandre with Tackle, who jumped out of the way in time, standing on his two hind legs before slamming his front paws down onto the Pokémon's head. 

The Chesnaught growled, before launching Seed Bombs at Lysandre, who used his tail as a shield, the black fur getting messed up as the projectiles struck his coat. He realized too late that the Seed Bomb was a distraction, as the Tackle smashed into his ribs, sending him flying backward into the air. 

He landed on his rump, which sent a painful jolt up his spine before crashing on his back. Opening his eyes, he could see Colress and Sycamore looking down at him, blocking the sun.

"Beast!" Colress shouted as Lysandre slowly rose to his feet, shaking his hair free of dirt. "Rise and fight! You must win!" 

Lysandre growled and stumbled, wincing when he took a step. 

"The Chesnaught won't give up," Sycamore gasped, gingerly rubbing his throat. "We better leave." 

Seed Bomb was hailed down on them again, and Lysandre pushed the two men down, standing like a tent over the two as he looked away from the source of the attack, protecting his eyes. 

He galloped away from the two, ramming his horns at the Pokémon, who blocked the attack with his shell. It ducked slammed it horned shoulder into Lysandre's chest, causing him to stumble back, yelping when he applied pressure on his hind leg. 

The  Chesnaught raised its arms, ready to smash its opponent's, and Lysandre blocked the attack by grabbing the Pokémon's hands, towering over the  Chesnaught by at least four feet. Lysandre gripped the Pokémon tightly, his talons digging into its wrists as he lifted the  Chesnaught into the air. Limping slightly, Lysandre lowered the Pokémon, who was thrashing angrily, before throwing it with all his current might into the air. Jumping, Lysandre grabbed the shell with his claws and spun as hard as possible before releasing the Pokémon. The  Chesnaught was sent flying into the trees and  out of view. 

Lysandre  returned to the two men, shaking his mane of hair. 

"Lyandre!" Sycamore praised. "That was brilliant!" 

"Good Physical attack," Colress said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "But there was no Special attack. We need to know what you can do." 

Lysandre glar ed at  Colress . The scientist narrowed his eyes,  not at Lysandre, but because he was  noticing the faint sound of stomping rapidly getting closer. Sycamore looked to the sound and saw the  Chesnaught was back for revenge, using the vast distance to buff its Tackle attack, gaining a dangerous amount of speed. 

Sycamore closed his eyes, ready to get crushed and flinched when he heard breaking bones fill his ears, waiting to feel the pain , but none came ; Lysandre jumped in front of the two men not a second too late. The ground rumbled, and Sycamore slowly slit open his eye, seeing the  Chesnaught stumble drunkenly and collapse, a colorful dart protruding from the Pokémon's face, embedded under the eye. 

"What...?" 

Sycamore looked up, seeing Colress holster his dart gun, looking somber. 

"It would not stop," Colress said calmly. He looked over at the beast who was lying on his side. "And the beast is now unable to run away." 

"Lysandre!" Sycamore gasped, crawling over to the beast who was whimpering with his breathing. "Are you alright?" 

Lysandre shakily rose to his feet, dragging his tail on the ground while his head drooped. 

"Lysandre, look at me," Sycamore pleaded, flinching when Lysandre did as if he could feel the hybrid's pain. 

"Looks like broken ribs to me," Colress said, circling the beast, where he could see the bony ribs caving in, making the fur dented like a tin can. "Can you move, Beast?" 

Lysandre took a few steps, loudly growling in pain with each step, limping on his hind leg while refusing to walk on one of his front paws. 

"Excellent," Colress said quietly, and Sycamore shot the scientist a cold glare. Noticing this, Colress looked over. "What? Now we don't have to worry about him pillaging something." 

Lysandre hobbled over to the cart and collapsed onto it while letting out a heavy groan, using his tail to drape onto his ribs as a blanket. 

"Smart beast. Knows what he needs to do." 

"Lysandre, are you going to be alright?" 

Sycamore hurried over to the trailer, stepped on the wheel, and hoisted himself onto the wooden platform. Lysandre bared his teeth but didn't growl, tucking his wounded extremities closer to his body. "It's okay, I won't hurt you. Look at me, Lysandre." 

Lysandre raised his head and looked at Sycamore, his eyes flicking up and down the professor's bloodied body and stopped at the purple bruise forming around his neck. His gaze hardened, and he started to rise, turning his attention to the unconscious Chesnaught. 

"Hey," Sycamore said, interrupting Lysandre's actions. He could see Lysandre's neck also had a massive bruise around his neck from the collar, the skin was red and chafed, and there were broken blisters. 

"I'm all right. I'm safe now." 

"Get off the trailer, Sycamore," Colress called over, ignoring the sentiment being passed between the two. "And let's go to the lab." 

Giving a faint smile, Sycamore walked off the trail and to Colress's side. 

"You might need to get that bruise looked at," Colress said, looking at the bruise wrapped around his neck like a thin, purple collar. 

"Lysandre has one, too," Sycamore countered. "The metal rubbed the skin off parts his neck." 

Colress said nothing as the two pulled the wounded beast to the lab. His walking rhythm turned to a click-thump- tap as he delicately tapped his hind leg, walked on his other leg, and hardly used his front paw, which Sycamore wondered if it was broken. 

Hobbling into his cage, which Colress opened, Lysandre collapsed with a whimper, curling his body as tight as he could. The door shut him apart from the men. 

"Sycamore," Colress said, looking at the professor. "Keep an eye on the beast. I'll be right back." 

The scientist ducked outside and left Sycamore with Lysandre. 

"Lysandre?" Sycamore spoke to the invisible wall. "Can you hear me?" 

Lysandre was curled up as tight as he could, using his tail to protect his limbs. Sycamore pulled away from the glass barrier, looking around the lab. There's got to be a potion in a lab this big. 

Sycamore started to wander, looking around the walls lined with expensive equipment. He guided himself to a large shelf filled with weird metal contraptions, and his gaze ran down the metal machines to rest on Colress's field journals that were stacked haphazardly on top of each other. 

Would Colress mind if Sycamore read the notes? He wouldn't leave them in the open, after all. With that in mind, Sycamore picked up the first book and turned the first page. 

_ This beast is weird.  _ _ Xerneas _ _ ,  _ _ Yveltal _ _ , and man all in one. What can he do?  _

There was a list of empty checkboxes, most were empty. 

_ Fight: Maybe  _

_ Swim: X  _

_ Fly: X  _

_ Talk: X with Pokémon: X with people: X  _

_ Mountable:  _

_ Agility/running:  _

_ Breedable _ _ :  _

The list carried on another page.

_ Can he actually reproduce? How is his existence possible?  _

Sycamore flipped the page, sliding down into a sitting position on the floor. 

_ Stats  _

_ Unknown.  _

_ Type: Fairy? Dark? Normal?  _

In black in below the words were:  _ What the moves this beast can use?  _

_ Personality: Weird.  _

_ Is this happening right now? It's unbelievable.  _

There were a few sketches of the beast and his anatomy. Flipping the page, the pages were loaded with labeled drawings, as if Colress were labeling a dissection. 

Setting the book down, Sycamore picked up another. Upon reading the first page, he faltered when his name appeared the first thing on the paper. He quickly shut the book, looked at Lysandre, then slowly opened it again, feeling his heartbeat thump noisily in his chest. 

_ Augustine bonds easier with the beast. What am I doing wrong? I assert dominance, while Augustine doesn't. He's submissive, and it won't work in showing the creature who's the leader. The weak ones will always fall, and if Augustine doesn't show who's the boss, the beast might go feral and attack us. He'll destroy Augustine, and there will be nothing I can do about it unless I capture a Pokémon strong enough to battle or kill the feral beast.  _

_ I worry about Augustine's position, but I'm also jealous of his ability to communicate with the beast easier. They know each other, and, with the research, they were friends when Lysandre was a human.  _

_ Do they have a relationship that allows them to understand each other's body chemistry? When Augustine is mad, does the beast feel it? What am I doing wrong? The creature needs to know that I am the alpha of the group. Pokémon can't be rulers of the house, the alpha is. And I am the alpha.  _

_ I think they understand each other to a point. They read each other's eyes. It's very possible they can know what the other is thinking. Augustine was most disturbed when he saw the beast. He was understandably in shock, and I think they may have been excellent friends. Maybe they were lovers.  _

"What?!" Sycamore shouted angrily at the book,  throwing it on the ground while  jumping back to reality as he stared at the words. Sputtering, he returned to reading, wondering if  Colress indeed saw them that way. He would have to explain to the scientist immediately on his status with Lysandre. He blurred _ words past before settling on a new paragraph.  _

_ The beast hasn't eaten for about a week, and Agustine hasn't slept right in about a week. Is this a coincidence? There's a way to find out everything, and I will find out today if my theory is right.  _

Sycamore saw the date under the writing was 8/14/2020, the time of t he current day . He wondered what the theory was as he gently closed the book, setting it down on the table. Unsure if he wanted to read any more, he grabbed a journal at random and opened it. All the pages were blank. 

He looked over at Lysandre, who had balled himself up as tightly as he could, shivering. Sycamore stood up, setting the journal down and walking over to the glass. Images of the pages hazed his vision as he watched the creature. 

_ I am the alpha... They understand each other...  _

Sycamore placed his palm against the cold glass, looking at the heap of fur in the cage. The door opened, and Colress's voice filled the lab. 

"I hope you didn't go anywhere!" 

"I did not, in fact." 

Sycamore smelled cooked vegetables and sauce, and, since his diet consisted of nightmares and coffee, his stomach gave an audible growl. 

Turning around, Sycamore saw Colress carrying armfuls of large bags as he walked over to the cage, setting them down. 

"What's this?" Sycamore pried one of the bags open and could see ratatouille in a steamy container. The door opened, and Colress rummaged through a bag, pulling out an extensive Pokémon medical care kit. 

"I figured we all need to eat an actual meal, and I wondered if the beast would like Kalos cuisine." 

Colress entered the cage, which was filled with dangerous growling. Lysandre tucked his tail tightly under his stomach and hind legs, raising his head and baring his teeth. 

"Relax, beast," Colress said as he set the medical box down, popping it open. He pulled out a syringe and bottle, filling the needle and squirting out a little bit to let any air escape. "You'll thank me." 

The closer he got, the louder the growling became. Sycamore watched anxiously in the entryway, rereading the journals in his mind.  _ Asserting his dominance. Lysandre doesn't trust  _ _ Colress _ _ very well.  _

"Colress—" 

Lysandre hoisted himself up on one front leg, tossing his horns and gnashing his teeth. Colress squared his shoulders and clutched the syringe tightly, walking closer without hesitation. He gently placed a hand on Lysandre's hide, who started kicking like a wounded Stantler and swiped his tail at the scientist, who ducked in time. 

"Colress, stop!" Sycamore ran over, hurrying to the scientist's side. "Stop." 

He looked at Lysandre, smiling gently as if he were  explaining who he was to a lost toddler.

"It's going to be fine, Lysandre. The needle is for—" He leaned over on Colress's shoulder, whispering in an undertone, "what's the needle for?" 

"Liquid carprofen," Colress hissed quietly. "Very concentrated so it can stop his pain." 

"—The needle is for your pain, Lysandre. It's liquid carprofen to help your agony. Trust this doctor, Lysandre." 

The beast growled darkly as he lowered himself, eyeing the needle as if it did  him a  personal crime.  Colress firmly pressed his palm on the furry hide and plunged the needle into the skin. It came out extremely slow, and Sycamore wondered just how dense the concentration was. Lysandre snorted, wrinkling his nose slightly. The effect was almost immediate; Lysandre kicked his leg as the drug flowed through his hind legs before traveling through his sirloins and past his ribs. He gave a great, shuddery sigh, and his eyes glazed to reflect a calm mind. He stood up on all fours and paced the cage, making a _click-click-thump-thump_ of his hooves and paws hitting the floor. 

"Feel better?" Sycamore asked, watching Lysandre's enjoyment of pain-free walking. He gave a soft grunt and sat down, sighing again out of content. 

"Now," Colress said, walking out of the cage to return with the bags of food. "I have a little something for you." 

_ Snort.  _

"It's not poisoned or anything. Fresh from a take-out restaurant." 

Lysandre watched Colress unbox several meals of fresh food, sliding a bowl of baeckeoffe to the beast. He sniffed it curiously, nervously pulling away like a dog who been caught in doing something bad. "Try these, then." Colress slid a small plate of escargot over, which Lysandre didn't try. "You like ratatouille?" Once more, a dish was served to Lysandre, who looked at it but did nothing. 

Sycamore blinked and walked over. 

"Come on, Lysandre. Everyone likes ratatouille. Here, try some...." Sycamore pulled the paper bag's edge and looked inside, reaching in and pulling out a black plastic bowl full of soup. "Bouillabaisse." 

Colress held up a small plate. 

"Gougère?" 

"Crème brûlée?" 

"Anything?" 

Sycamore unwrapped a plastic fork and started to dish some food onto three plates, handing one to Colress. 

"Well," Sycamore sighed, sliding a full plate casually closer and closer to Lysandre's front paws. "If you don't want to eat, we will." 

He took a bite of ratatouille, watching Lysandre in the corner of his eye, hoping to appeal Lysandre's hunger and making him eat as well. 

"Mmmm.... my mouth is watering as I eat, it's so good." 

Colress watched the beast in the corner of his eye as the professor ate. 

Sycamore enjoyed himself; after a solid week of coffee, and whatever cold was left in the fridge, the meal he was eating was absolutely divine. Every bite was a savory mouthful full of cheese and robust spices that lingered far after the food was gone. 

"You are missing out, buddy," Sycamore hummed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as he chewed. 

"When did you last eat?" Colress asked, gently setting his fork down. 

"Last night, in fact," Sycamore said through a mouthful of Gougère. "I had bread." 

"Bread," Colress echoed. He visualized Sycamore standing at home with the refrigerator wide open, which was picked clean while he was feeding on cheap white bread right out of the plastic packaging. "Nothing else?" 

"Mhm." 

Sycamore set his empty plate down after several minutes of gorging himself. 

"You know," Sycamore yawned exhaustedly, leaning on the back of his hands. "You're not as scary as you seem to be, Lysandre." 

Lysandre gently bopped Sycamore on the head, who laughed. The dark spots under his eyes somehow looked darker as Sycamore stood up hands in a boxing position, stumbling over to the beast's side. Lysandre scoffed, and swiped the tip of his tail under the professor's foot, making him fall face-first into the beast's bony ribs. Sycamore shook his head free of the red fur with a laughter that was broken with a loud yawn. The lack of nights missing sleep and the forced use of caffeine finally caught up to Sycamore, who sat down and scooted himself against Lysandre's loin, preferring the soft part of his body over the ribs. 

Colress watched Lysandre's face, which was mildly surprised at Sycamore's full trust in the beast to use him as a piece of furniture. Pretending to clean up Sycamore's plate, Colress ducked over the mess of opened meal boxes, taking plenty of time to carefully pick up every utensil. 

In the corner of his eye, Colress watched the beast use his tail to cover Sycamore's sleeping form like a thick, warm blanket. Looking over the best he could, Lysandre made sure that the professor's body was warm and secure before giving a pleased sigh and a nod as if seeing that what he did was right. He then took a massive, deadly talon and gently slid the plate of ratatouille over to himself, sniffing it gently. 

_ Of course! My theory was correct: the beast didn't eat this entire time because he could tell something was wrong with Augustine!  _

Lysandre jerked his head up, noticing his gaze, and tightened his tail firmer over Sycamore, his expression saying,  _ "I dare you to even come close."  _

"Relax beast," Colress sighed, folding his arms. "I know Agustine Sycamore. I have no ill intentions with him. You may eat with a calm mind." 

Eye narrowed still; Lysandre kept a close eye on Colress as he tweezed pieces of the ratatouille with precision, gently holding the vegetable slices and bringing them to his mouth. Colress watched, writing in his field journal. 

_ Those massive talons can be used for accurate grabbing. It can tweeze even the crumbs of bread around him. Interesting how something so enormous can be so precise in its movements.  _

Lysandre devoured the ratatouille, pulling the plate of Gougère over and picking each bread piece individually without breaking the crusts. Colress drew a few sketches, watching discretely. 

_ Can he detect the chemical imbalance inside Augustine? Or is it so evident that Sycamore needed sleep? I do not want to get Augustine sick to test my next theory.  _

Looking up, Lysandre was holding the bowl and drinking the contents of the Baeckeoffe in one movement, throwing the empty bowl aside and swiped at the bouillabaisse, the tip of his claw a good foot away. He pulled his top half forward, inching himself closer with a focused face. Sycamore let out a loud snore as he shifted, and Lysandre immediately stopped his moving and lowered his chin between his paws, sighing and staring ahead with half-open eyes. 

Colress wrote down a few more notes before standing up, walking past the trashed floor, and looked at Sycamore, who was curled up tightly against the beast's side, in a deep, and finally obtained, comfortable sleep. 

He picked up the dish of bouillabaisse with one hand and the crème brûlée with another, before approaching the beast slowly. Noticing a shadow fall over his face, Lysandre immediately raised his head, growling. 

"It's just me, it's alright," Colress said, mimicking Sycamore's effective technique from earlier, hoping to get the same effect. Lysandre raised an eyebrow, looking Colress up and down. "Just saw you wanted these." 

No sooner did the dish touch the ground before it was snatched up, Lysandre eyeing the scientist before downing the bouillabaisse hungrily before finishing it off with a mouthwatering crème brûlée. 

Seeing there was no food left, Lysandre tucked his paws to his chest and closed his eyes, gently hunkering himself for sleep. As beast and man slept, Colress cleaned the cage and left the door open, sitting in front of it with his dart gun in his lap as he wrote notes in his journal. 

*** 

"I feel even more tired, now," Sycamore yawned as he walked out of the cage, his jacket scrunched up and wrinkly while black fur stuck to the fabric. "Like I just died." 

"It's because your body is so used to becoming exhausted, that when you finally got good rest, your body is unable to catch up. You need more rest." 

Sycamore leaned into the scientist, rubbing sleep from his eyes but still feeling like absolute death. Colress turned around, and saw Lysandre's tail move, feeling that Sycamore wasn't there, and he raised his head slowly, yawning like a cat and stretching like one before sitting up, watching Colress and Sycamore with lazy, slow-blinking eyes. 

"I'll drive you home," Colress offered. 

"Let me get my jield fournal though, so I can write down everything when I wake up," Sycamore said, his voice caked with exhaustion as he broke apart from the scientist, walking to the table that held all their notes. He tripped on his own feet, stumbled, and tripped over the counter, falling down. To catch himself, Sycamore grabbed whatever was nearest, a bundle of wires dangling off a shelf and disappeared along the floor. When he fell, he yanked whatever the wires were holding, which was a large and cumbersome machine. 

Lysandre and Colress flinched when they watched it fall behind the table where Sycamore was, before craning their necks to see if he was hurt. 

"I'm alright!" Sycamore said, emerging from behind the table, raising both hands. "I rolled out of the way in time!" 

"Sycamore! Your arm!" 

Sycamore looked down to see his sleeve was torn, and the white cloth was quickly staining red, which was trailing down his elbow and dripping onto the floor. 

The professor looked at his injured arm and made a face. 

"Here, let me take you home and fix your arm," Colress said firmly, grabbing Sycamore's uninjured arm and dragging him to the door. The two left the building, leaving the anxious Lysandre to pace his cage. 

Colress drove Sycamore home, guiding him inside his house and sitting the professor down on a kitchen chair. The injury was far less than what he was bracing himself for. The machine made a deep gash about one inch wide on Sycamore's lower forearm, which the blood stopped gushing blood when pressure was applied to it after wrapping it up with sterile bandages. 

Sycamore stumbled to his bed and collapsed asleep, breathing heavily. 

With no reason to stay, Colress returned to the lab, where Lysandre was glaring at him, pacing. 

"It'll be quite all right, beast," Colress said under his breath. "I just want to try a few new things with you." 

The closer he got to the cage, the antsier the monster was getting, tossing his horns and lashing his tail. 

Colress picked up the microphone and stared at the monster as he spoke. 

"It's going to be all right, beast. Augustine is safe and resting well. I just want to try a few new things with you." 

Extremely suspicious, Lysandre was let out of his cage at gunpoint. 

"Now, beast, listen to me," Colress said firmly. "I want to know your moves. Special moves." 

Lysandre snorted, growling. 

"But you already broke a rib or two and strained a few legs. I can't let you get incapacitated. What's a way we can make more of you and lots?" 

He rubbed his chin and looked the beast up and down, before snapping his fingers. 

"I know exactly what we can do to make more of you!" 

Colress pointed at Lysandre, who's expression changed to horror at Colress's suggestion. 

"Breeding." 

*** 

Sycamore dreamt he was swimming, with Lysandre, who was an average human. Both were fully clothed. The water vanished, replaced by fire, and Lysandre turned into the monster from the lab, shedding his clothes into fur and sprouting horns and fangs. Suddenly, the water was back, and the two were washed downstream, and Sycamore found himself holding onto Lysandre for the life of him as the water dropped into a waterfall, and he was screaming, "Fly, Lysandre! Fly!" over and over as the razor-sharp rocks below were getting closer and closer. Lysandre opened his wings- and Sycamore woke up to the sun shining in his eyes. It wasn't the brightness alone that awoke the professor, but the ringing of his phone. 

"Erm, hello?" Sycamore grunted, wiping the sleep from his eyes. 

"He's escaping!" 

"...Escaping?" 

"The beast! He's furious with me!" 

It sounded like Colress was in a metal factory; there were loud bangs and screeches and expensive objects colliding with each other. 

"Beast?" Sycamore asked groggily, sliding to his feet and fumbling for his keys. 

"Lysandre! Don't you remember anything that happened?!" 

Sycamore had to hold his phone at arm's length as it sounded like an explosion went off in the other end. 

"NO! NO! NO! SYCAMORE I NEED YOU TO HURRY!" 

Sycamore broke the law twice as he sped far over the limit and without a seatbelt, skidding to a halt at the edge of the forest. 

_ Escaping? What can I even do?  _

It felt like sheer seconds to reach the lab, which didn't look damaged at all. Despite this, Sycamore ran inside, and, if he didn't know any better, would have thought a herd of Tauros charged through. Computer screens were knocked over and smashed, shattered glass sprinkled the ground where they had fallen; wires were exposed and snaked along the floors, some were cut cleanly apart; the walls had many scratch marks and gouges, and, in the wall, was a large portion of the wall that was completely destroyed to create a big enough hole for the angry beast to escape. 

A groan caught Sycamore's attention, and he saw Colress on the floor, bleeding from several cuts. His glasses were several feet away from him, and Sycamore hurried over, picking up the lenses and hastily slid them on the professor's face. 

"What happened?" 

"He's furious with me," was all Colress repeated, shaking his head. 

"What happened, Colress? Tell me!" 

"He didn't want anything to do with me or my ideas. He moved with an unholy speed. Used his horn to block the dart, and I didn't have time to reload. Smacked the gun out of my hand and was completely frantic, smashing against things and slamming against the walls. Hit me several times, too, with his tail. I think I broke something." 

Sycamore bit his tongue. Had Colress said something earlier to the right people, they could be on the lookout and prevent the beast from harming any Kalos residents. Maybe there still was time. 

"We need to find him, Sycamore," Colress breathed, clutching his bleeding ribs. "Before it's too late." 

Sycamore looked at the bright, sunny day, beaming with bright sunlight as he knelt over the wounded scientist. 

_ What have I gotten myself into? _


	2. Friendly Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes your mind tricks you into safety in the form of your enemy.  
> And sometimes food makes you stay at places you're unsure of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing homework actually made me question life so hard I had more than one existential crisis about the afterlife and human morality. Essentially, Sycamore is a sponge for all my confusion and sleep deprivation.

Colress awoke and automatically reached for his glasses on the side of his bed, finding them and putting them on his face. He stretched and sat up slowly, looking around the room. It was a completely white, sterile hospital room, and Sycamore leaned over the bed's railing. 

"Huh...?" Colress asked as his voice returned to his throat. He saw his arm was in a cast. 

"Hey, Colress," Sycamore said grimly. "Good to see you're awake. Again." 

_Again?_

"What?" 

"Listen, I know I got a little upset, but I was just so stressed about Lysandre's escape and having to rush you to the hospital and knowing how much trouble all of us will be in. Not to mention the bills you'll rack up, but whatever helps you get better. I just want to apologize about what I said to you in the car, and about the argument last night—" 

Colress was extremely confused and rubbed his temple. As much as he tried, Colress couldn't file out the memories Sycamore was talking about in the mess of a filing cabinet of his mind. 

"Augustine, what are you talking about?" 

Despite trying to rekindle his memories, the only most recent ones were.... what were they? 

He had taken Lysandre home, that's right, and he returned to the lab. The beast was there.... was it mad at him? He physically cringed as the memory blasted his mind as if it just happened. 

"Now, beast, listen to me," Colress said firmly in his memory. "I want to know your moves. Special moves." That's right, he needed to know what Special moves the monster was capable of. After all, Colress wanted it to be able to defend itself if they were ever attacked. Then the creature snorted at Colress, growling irritably and baring his teeth. Colress didn't want anything else to happen to the beast. He wanted it on full health and power to be used properly. The weapons it could power.... 

"But you already broke a rib or two and strained a few legs. I can't let you get incapacitated. What's a way we can make more of you and lots?" Colress had asked to it, rubbing his chin. He looked the monster up and down, his eyes running down the blue line of fur and staring at the longer tufts of fur hiding the beast's genitalia. Colress snapped his fingers, realizing that the beast was a male! A _him!_ Duh! It was so obvious! Why didn't he think of this before?! 

Colress almost slapped himself, but instead pointed hopefully to the beast, answering his own question. 

"Breeding." 

The monster was enraged with the idea as Colress had collected supplies for his plan, steeling himself for the disturbing imagery that would never escape his brain even after the years had passed. He set everything down on the table and readied his dart gun. 

"Get ready, beast." 

He opened the door, and Lysandre knew it was hopeless for him. If he tried to run, the scientist would dart him asleep. If he stayed in the cage, the scientist would strike him down and drag him out. Lysandre deducted that he was out of options, and, feeling cornered, decided he would at least go down with a fight. 

Colress fired his gun, but the beast was faster. It was as if the dart was in slow motion; the creature turned his head with ease, making the syringe embed his horn, and spun on the spot, making his tail into a weapon and smashing the scientist's side and breaking ribs. The gun flew out of his hands and clattering onto the floor several feet away. 

Now, what could he possibly do? His whole side stung, and he watched in terror at the power the beast used to annihilate the lab's interior. The monster was smashing monitors down with a sharp kick of his golden hooves and lacerating machines with the swipe of black claws. Colress rose to shaky feet, flinching before getting immediately knocked over as the beast's tail struck the scientist down in its blind panic. The air was knocked out of his lungs, and he lay there, his body enflamed in pain. To his horror, the monster started running straight at Colress, who raised his arms to block anything else that struck at him. 

But nothing hit him, as the monster jumped over the scientist with ease, shrouding him briefly in a shadow. Colress quickly scrambled for his phone and frantically called Sycamore. As he tried to explain what was going on, Lysandre reared on his two back legs, struck the wall with terrible power, broke through insulation, wires, and wood in one blow, making a pale pink snowstorm bleed from the wall. He walked over to Colress, looking down at the man who seemed to dwindle in size when he just looked at the monster with horror. He watched the terrible claws reach over to him and braced himself to get hit. The beast merely grabbed a fallen machine and launched it into the broken spot on the wall, making an explosion of sparks and wood and chunks of plaster into the air. 

The beast turned and snorted an angry goodbye to Colress, and crawled through the hole in the wall, his tail vanishing like a rug behind him before he was no more. 

"I don't remember anything else," Colress said blankly. "Except you finding me and that was all." 

Colress sighed and leaned back, wondering why he couldn't easily rub his face with both hands, then remembered he was wearing a cast. 

"What did you do to enrage Lysandre like that?" 

"He and I never got along, so I can guarantee you he lashed out irrationally." 

Sycamore cast a look of skepticism. 

"Irrationally," Sycamore echoed hollowly. "Just out of the blue." 

"Well, I wanted to see if he would be able to breed—" 

"Arceus, Colress—" 

"I didn't want him to get hurt without insurance—" 

"He's still part human! Just doing that is just wrong on so many levels!" 

"If he dies, Sycamore!" Colress shouted harshly, sitting himself up and looking at the professor. "Then there will be nothing left of him! Or Xerneas! Or Ylveltal!" 

"Colress?" Sycamore asked with horror in his breath. "What if the only way to free the legendaries is to have Lysandre die?" 

"That's a thought," Colress grumbled, calming down and pushing his glasses up his face. "But there's only one him, and I can't risk having the one die. Whether he likes it or not, there needs to be something other than him." 

"Breeding someone is immoral, disgusting, and just plain weird." 

"He's a some _thing!_ Not some _one_ nor Lysandre; he's a giant, mutant, freak of nature that we need to track down before it destroys the lives of people!" 

"Then breeding him would create more of Lysandre," Sycamore pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be safer if it was only him?" 

"It would be, yes, but what if something happens to him right now? He dies, and then what? He needs an heir, Augustine. Let's take you, for example. You are working in your lab, and you get wounded so badly you might die the next day. You have no one to continue your line. If you die, that's it. You need children for your legacy to continue." 

"True," Sycamore grumbled. "But what if Lysandre doesn't want his legacy to continue?" 

"There are things you must sacrifice for your own good. And the beast will have to accept the fact that he needs to be experimented on, even if it means producing children." 

"I honestly _don't_ want to see what his offspring would look like in his current state." 

"Now, you must understand that he's no long Lysandre, Augustine, and I don't know how close you two were, but I will use him for my own understanding." 

Something in that sentence sparked Sycamore's memory, and he turned to the scientist. 

"Colress?" 

"Yes?" 

"Just so you know, Lysandre and I were never a thing." 

"I never said you two were." 

"Yes, but I found your field journals and read a few things, and, uh, yeah.... we're not lovers." 

Colress shrugged. 

"You just seemed close, that's all." 

Sycamore coughed and used his hands to symbolize two people. 

"You see, one man can be friends with another man, and it doesn't always have to be romantic." 

The corner of Colress's lips twitched up ever-so-slightly. 

"I find it amusing that you're getting so into this." 

"Just wanted to make it clear." 

Colress slumped down, closing his eyes. 

"Augustine?" 

"Yes?" 

"I want you to find the beast. Contain him and protect the people that may be hurt from him." 

"I will," Sycamore promised. "Get well, Colress." 

"Visiting hours are now over," a robotic voice called over the speaker as the professor left the room. Colress wondered how long Sycamore waited through the day to speak to him. 

* * *

Sycamore walked outside of the cold building and into the late day, where the world was dipped into a harsh orange hue. So that's why Lysandre was so upset; he didn't want to be bred, and Sycamore wasn't there to calm things down. But where could a creature like him hide? Sycamore's hands seemed to be moving before they were commanded, turning on the engine, steering the car, and driving the man without his guidance. 

The whole ride was a haze of car lights and stop signs before he cut off his engine without another thought on the side of a road. He looked out the window and felt as if he were watching a moment in time. 

Framed in the orange sunset glow was the abandoned building of Lysandre's Café. The red parts of the building seemed to make the café look like it was on fire. Despite the painful memories that the simple view had crashed into Sycamore's mind, the building looked absolutely beautiful. 

He had no need to enter the café, yet, there he was, walking inside like it was another day in Kalos. He was immediately surrounded by people the moment he passed through the doorway; the laughter and chatter that filled the coffee-scented café brought a pleasant smile to form on Sycamore's lips. He could smell the delicious, puffy pastries baking in the oven, and walked further inside. 

The people he envisioned started to haze away with the dust that blew around from the opened door. Their laugher turned into the wind outside, and the smell was another trick of his mind, making him think, knowing he was deluding himself with false hope, that he was back in Lysandre's Café as if nothing had ever happened with Lysandre himself. 

He guided down the hidden room to the darker part of Lysandre's Labs, entering the vast room of scientific research and knowledge. How could be so oblivious to what Lysandre was doing down here? His chest suddenly constricted, and he found himself blindly wandering back to a dusty chair only fall down heavily on it, upsetting a cloud of dust to waft in the air. The particles clung to his eyes and burned them, but he allowed the pain to stay. Tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks, and he did nothing to stop them. 

Up until this point, he was numb, seeing the Lysandre, denying what he was, burdened with nightmares— all of that he pushed away. He had no reason to tell anyone, and why would he? He hardly knew Colress, and Ash Ketchum and his friends already had enough stress burying them without the pitiful cries of an exhausted professor. But now he was alone, sitting in the chair he used to go to with nothing but solitude to accompany him. 

He let the painful memories fill his mind and overwhelm his thoughts as everything he tried to push away through the past several weeks crashed through his very being like a gallon of hot water forced through a straw. He was the straw, unable to comprehend everything that was wracking his body at the moment, and let the pain, the raw, shameful pain of everything he ever knew just wrack his innards and flush his body. 

He slumped over the table, sobbing loudly into his arm and didn't stop. The exhaustion of his body was begging for sleep, while his mind was screaming for closure on the whole ordeal, causing Sycamore to rise blearily, his chest filling with urgent panic, before slumping back down and hiding his red eyes into the crook of his arm, making his black hair drape over his sleeve. 

His body had enough abuse and completely shut down, making Sycamore collapsed into a forced sleep, the dust settling down onto his back like a gossamer blanket. 

* * *

_I have awakened fully._

The voice of Life was a melody of no other, where it made anyone's soul ascend just by hearing a mere whisper of the sound. 

**I have awakened fully.**

The voice of Death was a harmony of horror, and the feeling of pain and dread would enclose anyone's heart just by hearing a mere whisper of the sound. 

Lysandre showed no signs of hearing the voices as he ran until his paws bled, and his claws had trimmed slightly by the natural ground. 

_I do not understand this form._

**We must leave this form at once to continue our cycle.**

_I sense confusion in his soul. I can feel what he is feeling._

**I sense pain in his soul. I can feel what he is feeling.**

_Ylveltal, this is the one who harnessed our power for the sake of his own benefit. How dare we share one organism?_

Despite the context, Xerneas's voice was calm and smooth as if it were water itself speaking. 

**I refuse to assist in this.**

_He is hungry and has not rested over a day. He is in pain and sorrow._

**He is in full control of his own emotions. I refuse to assist in this.**

Lysandre was in a collapsed heap in the forest, sides heaving and froth gushing out of his mouth. His eyes bulged out of his skull as he crawled into a small den of vines blanketed over a bush, using it as coverage. The forest was filled with nothing but the nighttime cries of Pokémon.

_He is exhausting himself._

**We are an enigma of his body. We have no control over him, Xerneas. We must suffer from what he puts us through.**

_I can see what his memories hold. I cannot give them back for fear of what he might do._

**I will not assist. This battle between us still stands.**

Lysandre closed his eyes, feeling a sense of hope filling his chest as all thoughts of darkness faded away. He started to think he had a good chance to survive given his circumstances, and curled up tighter and closed his eyes, drifting into a restless sleep.

* * *

Sycamore felt someone shaking his shoulder, and he sat up, his eyes blearily looking around. 

"What?" 

Lysandre was standing over him, shaking his shoulder still. 

"Oh, Arceus. Just explode and let's get this over with," Sycamore mumbled darkly, smacking his lips. 

"Sycamore," Lysandre said softly, letting go of his shoulder and sitting across from the professor. Sycamore noticed no dust rested on the tables. "I know you know this is just a figment of your imagination. But I think you have been waiting a long time to hear me apologize for everything I have done. You have been in so much agony waiting for this, so you finally imagined it to give yourself the closure you need. So, here I am." 

"Lysandre," Sycamore huffed, leaning over the table and resting his chin in his hand. "I think this is the first time you said more than one sentence with over ten words each." 

"Do you want me to apologize?" 

Sycamore lunged over the table and grabbed Lysandre's jacket, yanking the taller one over. His bottom lip trembled, and everything he held back inside just rushed out in a loud diatribe into Lysandre's face. The longer he shouted, Sycamore realized he could do anything to Lysandre in his dream, as it wouldn't matter as this wasn't real life. 

He kept holding onto Lysandre's front and left the table, slamming the Kalosion to the ground, punching him and even strangling him at one point in a mess of fury, before looking into those blue eyes and saw them as the scared, hurt beast looking back at him. 

Sycamore had enough and slumped to the ground in shaking sobs. At least in his dream, no one could see him like this, which brought Sycamore the confidence to completely break down into a melting pot of emotions. He was furious at Lysandre, scared for him too, not to mention the people he could and might hurt. He was terrified of being seen like this and getting revealed to be hiding Lysandre's monstrous form until it was too late, and now he would have to confess and quite possibly get arrested for the massive secret. Then how would people see him? His reputation would be destroyed and not to mention how he worked with Colress. What would become of the professor who allowed a monster to rampage Kalos? 

He felt himself getting picked up and pressed into Lysandre's chest, but he couldn't hear a heartbeat. 

"There's no use in comforting me," Sycamore mumbled in the cold cloth pressed against his face. 

"Yes, there is," Lysandre said quietly, pushing Sycamore away at arm's length, looking into the professor's eyes. "You're comforting yourself in the form of me." 

"I don't understand," Sycamore said while slowly shaking his head. 

"Yes, you do. But you deny it. You deny all that you see, all that you heard, all that you know. You want to be comforted, but you don't know how to get the feeling of security when everything you know and cares for has been taken away and torn apart. I'm the only one you knew as a close friend, and therefore I am in your nightmares as a symbol of comfort in the darkest moments." 

Sycamore's heart started to pound in fear, and the big hellfire wings sprouted from Lysandre's shoulders, setting the already red atmosphere in a horrific bloody tinge. 

"Get away from me!" Sycamore shrieked, terrified that Lysandre sniffed out his insecurities with ease and broadcasted each one. "GET AWAY!!!" 

"Am I not wrong?" Lysandre asked calmly as he watched the professor trying to back away with fear in his eyes. "After all, I am a mere figment of your imagination." 

Sycamore tried to think of something else that wasn't the creepy monster Lysandre standing in front of him— _Anyone, help me, please. He'll explode again—_ Sycamore shuddered as he remembered Lysandre's explosions in all his other nightmares, and the skies outside darkened. The room dimmed, and Sycamore felt his knees buckling as Lysandre screamed, erupting as if dynamite was set off in his abdomen, spraying Sycamore with entrails, blood, and bones. The professor was flung backward, shrieking in terror as he felt Lysandre's organs coating him like a repulsive net. 

He awoke with a snort, peeling his face out of his sleeve and realized he soaked it with drool; he had been sleeping so hard. 

Sycamore raised his head, looking at the empty café, and slid out of the dusty chair, sending a dust cloud in the air. He stood up and stretched. Was his imagination correct? Was he so desperate for comfort that he was tricking himself into security? He thought about "Lysandre" pulling him to his chest. He felt so cold.... and he had no heartbeat, either. Did that mean something important? Or was Sycamore so used to telling himself that Lysandre died so many times that he was imagining it into reality? 

His nose was severely plugged up, but he figured the sobbing had to do something with it and eventually clear up. He walked to his car and started it up, staring at his wheel for the longest time before looking back up and driving into the night. 

* * *

He awoke in a heap of fur and stretched himself out, easing the tight muscles in his limbs with care, as they were still tender from the day before. He slunk out of his den and shook the dirt free from his fur. Lysandre felt his stomach tighten before it let out a loud growl, and he started to roam the forest for food. Now that he left Sycamore and Colress, he felt more like how he should act: like a real wild Pokémon. His main goal was to find food, and, rearing on his hind legs, he could smell the slight tint of overripe berries in the distance. 

As he trotted through the foliage and causing the smaller Pokémon to flee from him, he couldn't help but wonder what happened to Sycamore. He supposed he could stop by and visit, but they made it very clear that he shouldn't be seen by the public eye. Why they were strict on that, he really didn't know. After all, people see Pokémon walking around all the time. He (tried to) lick his nose and catch the scent again but found it was easier to rely on his instincts to guide him to the food. 

While his eyesight was excellent, his smelling certainly wasn't as strong as other Pokémon's such as the Slurpuff and found himself in the clearing of a forest, where a handsome log cabin rested in the middle. Surrounding the house were rows of trees loaded with berries that were falling off and fermenting. He approached the trees hungrily, raising onto his hind legs and taking in a mouthful of the sweet stuff, twigs and all, before swallowing them whole. He quickly found out that they were Oran berries, and started stripping down the limbs and breaking a few off, eating the berries right off the stick. 

When he picked the trees clean, he lowered back onto all fours and cautiously walked over to the cabin. He detected a scent that he knew he smelled before, but where? The smell was something he recognized, yet, was unable to figure out what it was. He hid against the wall and leaned his head into the window, where there was a mug of freshly brewed coffee on a table inside. He could hear movement inside but didn't see anyone.

Something was aroused in his chest at the sight of the drink, and he had to press his face against the log wall as he reached his arm inside, feeling for the mug. His talon clipped the cup before he slipped the sharp tip through the handle and slowly pulled his arm back out, bringing the drink to his face. 

The steam brushed his face, and the smell was agonizingly familiar as if he had a drink of this stuff when he was a baby Pokémon and long since forgot about it. When he took a sip, his body recognized it immediately, while his mind did not. It tasted bitter yet sweet, and the warmth flowed through his body like an internal hug. 

"What are you doing here?" 

Lysandre turned to see a little girl, no older than eight, watching him. She was wearing a dress that obviously was covered in dirt as if the mother gave up trying to make her prim and proper and dressed her in girly play clothes designed to get dirty. 

Lysandre tilted her head, and she giggled. 

"You look funny!" 

He dropped the mug in the grass and walked over to her on all fours, circling her as he looked te girl up hand down. Where children always this tiny? She looked so small and petite, yet chunky at the same time. 

"What are you?" She giggled, walking over to Lysandre's front and seemed very attracted to the blue line of fur that ran down his body. It did, after all, look pretty soft and pettable, like a long line of Wigglytuff fur. 

Lysandre backed up slightly, unsure what he should do as she toddled over, arm outstretched to pet him. He sat down and leaned his head as far back from her as he could, not unlike a nervous Ponyta would, where the whites of its eyes shine in the light. 

"It's okay," she soothed, slowing down. "I won't hurt you." 

He remembered Sycamore saying those same words and gently lowered his head. He missed the professor considerably and wondered where he was. 

She gently patted the blue crest on his chest, then ran her fingers through the red fur, which was short and soft. 

"You look beautiful," she breathed, combing her fingers through the gray fur that connected to the blue crest. She giggled again. "This is like petting a spaghetti cloud." 

He cocked his head, confused about what that even meant. 

"You look so skinny," she said as she noticed his ribs poking out of his skin. "Let me see if I can get you any food!" 

She hurried into the cabin, and Lysandre leaned in to the window, hearing the girl moving around in the inside. 

"Amy Grace," said a thin male's voice. "Have you moved my coffee?" 

"No, Daddy," she said. "I want to eat outside today." 

"Well, then," a female's voice rang through the building. "Take care of getting this out." 

"Thanks, Mom!" 

Lysandre looked through the window to see a baffled middle-aged man scouring the tabletops to find his drink, while a slightly younger female was putting dishes in the sink. He pulled away from the window and stretched himself over the dew-covered grass, the cold liquid soaking his entire right side. 

"I'm back!" Amy Grace called over, carrying a plate of a rather generous breakfast. Lysandre smelled the bacon and immediately sat up. "We got bacon, toast, and eggs." 

He wouldn't wag his tail. No, that seemed.... extremely undignified. Instead, he rose to his feet and got as close as he dared, which was about a foot away from Amy Grace. She held the plate to him, and he delicately plucked the meal out of her hands with two deadly talons, and then hungrily swallowed a bacon strip whole. 

"No! You'll choke that way!" 

He looked at her with a slightly shocked expression. Did tiny children always have the ability to sound bigger than they were? 

"Use this instead." 

And she held up a fork to him, which he took as well. He held it like one would when examining a hair they found on their person: pinching it between the thumb and forefinger. 

He speared the eggs, which made the yoke run, and he struggled to get the strip of egg white in his mouth while it dripped messily into his beard. Amy Grace wondered if he ever used a fork before. 

In this form, he hadn't. 

"You don't keep your elbow level with your face," she coached. "Lower it. Yes, like that." 

He tried again. 

"Better. Now this time, chew." 

He grumbled, but complied, and, sure enough, he could actually taste the food when he did so. It didn't take long to clear the plate, and he set it aside with the mug, sitting down as any canine Pokémon would. 

"This is so cool! You look like a manticore!" 

Manticore? He heard of that somewhere, like a long, distant word he heard once growing up and forgotten. 

"Well, like Xerneas and Yveltal if they were a manticore with your face on it. Can you speak English?" 

He shook his head and snorted. A Pokémon that can speak English? Pfah! Children and their imaginations! 

He made a mental note to kiss himself if he met any Pokémon who spoke any English.

"There's a brook down in the forest! I'll race you there!" 

He tilted his head again. Were tiny children so trusting, too? Seriously, what did she see in him to treat him casually, like.... a friend? 

His shoulders dropped as she watched her running, calling back at him to catch up. He trotted to her side and only had to take a few steps every while or so to keep up. 

Of course! Tiny children would have no fear in a giant Pokémon like him! She only wants a friend to play with, and, being alone in a cabin, there's not a lot of people aside from travelers who would stay. She just wants to play with a Pokémon she just met. 

Children are so weird. 

The brook was small and perfect for splashing in, and Lysandre bent down for a long, thirst-quenching drink. Amy Grace went silent too, and when he opened his eyes to make sure she was still there, he saw she was next to him, on her hands and knees bending over the water, drinking like a Pokémon, too. 

He closed his eyes and continued to refresh his dehydrated body. He did drink at the lab, but it tasted weird, like something put in the water to clean it. And, with Colress continually there, he never felt comfortable doing anything, including drinking. 

Water splashed into his face, and, eyes squeezed closed, he raised his head and wiped his face. Amy Grace was grinning widely, splashing water onto him. He snorted and stood up on all fours, looking at her. 

"Tag!" Amy grace shoved a hand into his arm and ran as hard as she could away from him, which Lysandre watched with amusement at her incredibly slow pace. He could easily walk on his hind legs and still catch up with her. He gave her a head start before trotting over and poking her shoulder. 

"Hey! You cheated!" 

He raised his head as he heard the faint sound of water splashing and walked to the source. Amy Grace followed him, continually asking where he was going. 

He poked his head through the trees to see a cascade waterfall draped over a cliffside about eight feet tall, crashing into a pool of water. Several Pokémon were drinking and playing in it, stopping when they saw a girl and a beast. 

"Lotad?" 

"Pol, Polioed! Pol!" 

A Bellsprout fled, and several others followed suit. Those who did stay left a wide berth and were watching warily from a distance. 

Lysandre dipped his front paws into the water, which felt extremely forgiving on his tired legs and sore muscles, and he let out a loud sigh. He wasn't fond of getting his fur wet, but the sun was out and would let it dry quickly, so he walked in on all fours. It was shallow enough for him to keep his spine and head dry and his tail, which he had raised above the water. However, Amy Grace followed him in, shoes and all, and the water rose up to her chin when she got to his side. It was apparent she was half swimming—half skimming the ground with her toes as she bobbed a lot, her arms treading water. While it was a pool to her, it was more of a glorified puddle to Lysandre. 

"I go swimming a lot with my aunt and uncle, who live in...." and she was telling Lysandre about her life and friends and school while he stared in the distance, not listening, wondering what Sycamore was doing right now. Was he doing well? Was he safe? 

"Please?" 

He snorted in mild shock when a pudgy finger jabbed into his side and winced when Amy grace grabbed a handful of his skin to help keep afloat. 

Lysandre tilted his head at her. 

"And you let me ride the waterfall?" 

He looked at the small mountainside and how it dropped into the water, making sure it was safe enough. He didn't find a reason to not do it, so he walked over to where the cascade was, feeling the water getting deeper. She still was gripping his hide like some sort of handle, and he plucked her off of him with a single paw and lifted her onto the top of the mountain, where she jumped off of the waterfall and into the pool below. Lysandre raised his paw to his face to protect himself from the splash. She emerged, soaking and shivering. 

"Again!" 

He lifted her with one hand once more, and she jumped into the water. 

"Again!" 

And the cycle of him tirelessly plucking her out of the water and raising her onto the elevation of land continued for at least an hour, which Lysandre had to admit was getting quite dull after a while. He noticed how the Pokémon watched him closely as if he would taint their water with poison. How interesting, he thought, that he couldn't communicate with them even if he tried. Every Pokémon should at least be able to speak with one another. Why can't he? 

Amy Grace was pulling his fur again. 

"Let's go back." 

Ignoring all requests for her to ride on his back, the two walked back from the forest to the cabin, where Lysandre stopped at the edge of the forest, allowing Amy Grace to trot ahead and into the building. Lysandre could hear her mother shouting at all the water that was tracked inside from their swim. A couple minutes passed, and Amy Grace was wearing a new outfit and shoes when she reappeared. 

"Let's play!" was the first thing that came out of her mouth when she saw him hiding in the bushes, and doing a surprisingly fine job at that, given his size. 

He looked over and crept into the sunlight, his tail swishing nervously. 

"It's okay," she comforted, seeing his obvious uncomfortableness. "Daddy's at work at a faraway lab." 

A scientist? Weird place to live for such a sophisticated job. Maybe he likes to live in the peace of the wild. 

Lysandre snorted and looked at the forest, wondering where Sycamore was. He had run for such a long time.... he wasn't sure if it was possible to retrace his steps exactly to return from where he came from. 

"Say, do you have a name?" 

He looked down at the girl and started to walk into the forest, disliking the feel of having a soaked underside. 

"I want to call you Red!" 

He paused, considering it, then continued to walk. 

"How about Blue?" 

Snort. 

"How about Kemono?" 

He ignored her, walking past the girl and through the forest, finding a break in the trees and walking into the sunlight. 

"Manticore!" 

Lysandre flopped down heavily onto the grass, crushing the blades as he exposed his soaked belly to the sun, appreciating the late morning warmth. He closed his eyes and tucked his arms to his chest, laying very similarly to a dog on its back, waiting for a belly rub. 

He heard footsteps approaching his side, and he slit one eye open to see Amy Grace mimicking his position, squeezing her eyes shut against the sun. He let out a tired sigh as he was slowly sundried, reflecting on his thoughts. 

* * *

Sycamore felt feverish; he had spent half the day mapping out the different Kalos locations where Lysandre could have run off to but had no idea where to start. Unable to return to the hospital to report nothing to Colress, Sycamore found himself driving away from Calanthe Town. Everything that happened seemed like a hazy idea that wasn't actually reality. He thought about when he found Colress in the lab. The scientist was surrounded by a mess of machinery, as if the building had picked itself up, shaken itself vigorously, and settled back down, making the interior complete bedlam while the outside was unscathed. 

He had run to Colress's side, worried at the puddle of blood forming like a sprouting flower on the white coat. Sycamore used his Garchomp to help carry the scientist to his car, before driving to Calanthe Town in a dazed blur. 

"What happened?" 

"That wretched beast destroyed everything I created!" 

"What did you try doing to him?" 

They hit a bump on the road, and Colress flinched, clutching a clearly broken arm. Sycamore stepped a bit harder on the gas pedal. 

"Colress? What did you try doing to him?" 

"The beast is dangerous! I tried to experiment on him, but he must be put in captivity right now!" 

"He's not aggressive unless you aggravate him!" Sycamore snapped. He was getting irritated that Colress refused to call Lysandre by his name. Was it because of the "asserting dominance" thing? Either way, Lysandre usually wasn't hostile unless provoked, just like.... (Sycamore's stomach twisted), Lysandre acted when he was human. Sycamore shuddered at the nonexistent chill that crunched his spine; how much was that thing was Lysandre? And how much was a beast? 

"If anyone, Augustine, and I mean anyone, sees that beast, they will attack it!" Colress snarled, his voice rising. "And the beast will become a danger to anyone who tries to stop it! That's why we must find him as soon as possible!" 

"I wonder," Sycamore laughed hollowly. "If people would know not to attack him if they _knew of his existence."_

"I'm keeping him from the public for their own safety!" 

"Oh, good! Now they are _totally safe_ when they encounter Lysandre!" 

Red and blue lights splashed the car's mirrors, and Sycamore pulled over to let the car pass, but it stopped right behind them. 

"Do you have any idea how fast you were going?" The one of many Officer Jenny asked as she approached the car window. 

"Officer," Sycamore said gingerly, smiling charmingly. 

_Oh, Arceus. What if she discovers we were hiding an experiment from the world?_

"I am driving this man as fast as I can to the hospital." 

Officer Jenny saw the scientist's condition and quickly pulled from the vehicle. 

"That looks serious! Let us escort you!" 

And Sycamore was in Calanthe City in minutes and seconds getting into the hospital. Colress looked pretty bad as the warm, sticky blood was smeared around his jacket, and Sycamore hoped his car wasn't going to get stained. 

Understandably, Sycamore had to stay in the waiting room while they cleaned Colress up, and was summoned when they were done. He was in a hospital gown and was covered in bandages, and his broken arm was in a splint. They had some small talk before the drugs kicked in, and Colress fell asleep, and Sycamore had spent the night circling locations on where Lysandre could have been. 

Sycamore then talked with Colress the day after, and the day after that, each time resulting in them arguing over Lysandre's safety and how he should have been treated. If Colress treated Lysandre respectfully and with kindness, would Lysandre have reacted differently? Sycamore hated to think that Lysandre was demeaned so much that he would respond unkindly to Colress in any situation. 

Colress was right. Lysandre is a monster, and he could go feral if he genuinely wanted to. But why was Sycamore bent on denying this, even when the scientist was correct? Was it because he had a very faint trickle of hope in his chest that Lysandre was still the man he knew? But that man turned into a monster. Sycamore felt a whole revelation strike him as he waited on a red light. 

Was it possible that the monster could change back.... into a man? 

He sat there as the thought settled into his mind, staring with wide eyes into the distance. Would it be possible? How could it happen? Lysandre "died" in the explosion of power from the Pokémon. Did he need to extract the Pokémon's power from him? How? 

A long, loud blare of the horn reminded Sycamore to drive, and he quickly moved with the traffic, traveling to Chapman's Lab. He parked along the forest and hurried to the building, entering the destroyed main room. 

Broken glass crunched under his feet, and wires sparked along the floor. The smell of burnt wires and paper lingered in the drafty room, while insulation with fiberglass drifted like sand. Papers were littering the floor and fluttered when a breeze entered the room via the giant hole created by a quarter-ton beast. Sycamore saw that the space was at least seven feet in diameter and could see where claws gouged the wall with intimidating ease. 

He saw the puddle of blood where Colress had been knocked down. It had dried overnight and had the pattern of Colress's clothes painted around the edges. Sycamore stepped around it and saw red fur snagged on metal shards, while there were gouges in the machinery and overturned tables. There were hoof marks embedded into computer screens and walls, while there were holes where a pair of horns had speared through countless machines. Sycamore saw ruined notebooks scattered around the floor, but most were in the corner where they left with the overturned tables. 

Sycamore grabbed the first one and began to read. 

* * *

"Kemono?" 

Lysandre woke to a pudgy finger poking his face and blinked his eyes open, grunting sleepily. He stretched and yawned, rolling onto his front and rising on all fours. The day had cooled down significantly, and Lysandre could see that his fur had dried entirely. 

"Kemono?" 

Lysandre shook his mane of hair and felt his rear leg sorer than before. 

"I got to go for dinner," Amy Grace said. "But I'll be back!" 

He sat down and looked at her, and she leaned in closer to his face. 

"I'll see if I can sneak you something," she whispered as if someone might be eavesdropping. "So, don't go anywhere." 

She ran off, and Lysandre brushed the dirt out of his fur where it had dried. Her footsteps vanished, and Lysandre stopped brushing himself when he saw how wide his arms were. Wide enough to become wings? He stretched his talons apart, making his wings slightly bigger as he rose to his hind legs. Lysandre raised his arms apart and started flapping his wings as hard as he could, making the grass bend and leaves to flutter around him, but nothing more came of it. He even jumped into the air, but his body was just too heavy to be lifted with the shallow wingspan he had. 

"Spear?" 

Lysandre looked up to a curious Spearow cocking its head at the hybrid. 

"Spearow?" 

Lysandre snorted and folded his arms, quirking an eyebrow at his audience. The bird didn't do much after it lost interest and started pecking at the ground. 

Lysandre looked at a tall tree and rubbed his chin in thought. Could he at least hover? 

He crouched, wiggled his body a little like a cat before the pounce, and launched himself onto the trunk, sinking his talons into the bark and kicking with his hooves to scale the tree. His legs were begging to rest, but he didn't stop until he reached the higher branches, getting higher than twenty feet. 

It wasn't until he saw how far the ground was below him and how hard it would hurt when he fell did Lysandre wonder if this really was a good idea. 

The branch creaked and groaned under his weight, snapping slightly when he tried to balance himself. He wrapped his tail around the branch and took a breath, his hooves having a hard time to find footing, while his claws swiftly sunk in the limb for balance. 

His horns scratched the branches above him as he leaned over the edge, feeling his limbs tiring. Taking a breath, Lysandre unwrapped his tail and crouched again, jumping off the branch and truly wondering if he thought this through. 

He flapped his wings as hard as he could, and his tail trailed behind him like a rope tied to a falling rock. He watched the ground rise to him at terrifying speed— 

THUD!! 

"Sp-Spear-Spear-Spear-Spear!" The little bird cackled, tears threatening to spill out of its eyes as the bird was shaking with laughter. Lysandre rose shakily, his eyes crossed as he stumbled around. Something in his ribs shifted, and it was as if something shattered inside. The pain was obnoxiously unbearable, and Lysandre found himself growling loudly as if he could intimidate his body to heal itself. 

"Spearow?" 

Lysandre circled the ground angrily and dug his claws into the ground, shredding it up. The bird Pokémon quickly flew off with a flutter of wings, leaving Lysandre to brood in lonesome pain. The liquid carprofen must have worn off, as the broken ribs from the Chesnaught felt worse now. 

He guessed he would never be able to fly, and curled up tightly under the base of a tree, watching the grass dance in the wind. The day had shifted from hot to cool, and the breeze had become more active throughout the forest. 

"Kemono?" 

Lysandre raised his head, eyebrows raised, at the voice of Amy Grace. She emerged carrying a basket of bread and set it down in front of him, smiling. 

"That was all Mom would allow me to take. Sorry if it's not enough." 

Lysandre rose, clenching his jaw, plucked a roll from the basket, and hungrily devoured it before fishing out another. He ate the third and last one before handing the basket back to the girl. 

"Mom says it's going to rain tonight. You can stay in my treehouse!" 

Lysandre tilted his head, doing his best to ignore the pain that was chewing his side. 

"Follow me!" 

The girl led the beast back to the cabin but turned before they reached the clearing to a hidden shack covered in vines. Lysandre saw it was a more of a potting shed adapted into a child's playhouse, where there were faded flowers painted on the side against a background of pink and white. 

He opened the double doors and, somehow, Lysandre squeezed through, thankful that the shed was bigger on the inside. He could turn around, at least. 

"Stay here," Amy Grace said softly. "And I'll see if you need any blankets." 

Lysandre was careful not to step on any toys and did himself a favor by using his tail like a broom and swept everything into a corner. 

He couldn't raise his head quickly in fear his horns would impale the ceiling and had to take even greater care to avoid breaking the cabinets that were in the furthest corners. He curled up tightly into a ball and replayed his captivity in the lab as he listened to the wind outside. 

"I got your blankets, Kemono." 

Amy Grace's voice came from the door as it was opened, and the girl emerged with an armful of blankets and pillows. "It's going to get really cold tonight, so I want you to stay warm." 

She threw a blanket over his massive hide and pushed a pillow into the crook of his arm. She lifted one of his massive talons and slipped a Spritzee doll under his paw. 

"Good night!" 

She seemed reluctant to leave but exited the shed just as the rain started to fall, casting Lysandre into dark isolation. 

* * *

Sycamore closed the tenth field journal and rubbed his eyes. Everything he summed up from reading was that Colress was extremely jealous of the bond Sycamore had with Lysandre and that Lysandre was a powerful beast that was very hard to figure out. 

The books that were read by the professor were stacked neatly in a pile, and he grabbed a new journal, skimming through the pages. 

_If he's the two legendary Pokémon, then he must have some of their powers. We need to somehow extract their energy from him, and hopefully, that will summon the man alive. How can I build a machine to take power from something I know nothing about?_

Sycamore gasped softly as he thought of putting Lysandre in the machine he used on the legendaries. Would it work? Could it work? 

The next few pages were a machine designed to absorb power from a Pokémon, with statistics jammed on the side of the page in minute writing. Sycamore slowly shut the book, realizing how important it was to find Lysandre as soon as possible. 

It started to rain as Sycamore tucked the book into his jacket. He could smell the rain as it came down and thought about how Colress would have to build a machine as soon as he could. Unless the machine Lysandre himself used was still intact. Would it be possible? 

He left the main room, entered a small hallway, and opened the first door to find it locked. The second one opened, and Sycamore could see a desk with piles of papers stacked on top of it, leaning against screens lining the walls. 

He picked up a sheet and looked saw the page was empty, save for one sentence centered in the middle. 

_I am safe, Sycamore._

The professor yelped and threw the paper away from him, making it flutter to the ground. Did he see it correctly? Was he so concerned about Lysandre's safety that his body was tricking his thoughts into a belief? 

He rubbed his eyes, and nervously looked at the paper, which had formulas written on it. There were no signs of the message he just read. He stared at the document then looked at the wall. 

He was just at Lysandre's Café the other day. Why didn't he go and see if the lab was still intact?

Sycamore knew what he needed to do right away: get the machine working again, find Lysandre, and extract the Pokémon power from his body. That was their best hope. 

He left the small room and into the lab, where the rain was falling harder, making mist come from the hole in the wall. Sycamore looked and realized Lysandre's cage was untouched. There wasn't even a scratch on the glass. He could see red, black, and blue fur littering his confinement. 

Sycamore saw he was still holding the paper and pocketed it with the journal in his coat. He needed to talk to Colress as soon as he could. He trudged through the wet forest as the moon was rising, and got lost multiple occasions given his only light source was the sun and his flashlight was lost somewhere in the lab. He found his car and drove back to Calanthe Town, where it had become late at night. When he got there, soaked and cold, he was told that Colress was sleeping. Too tired to do drive anymore, Sycamore booked a hotel room for what remained of the night. 

He flicked on the light to his room and tossed his car keys onto the counter and yawned, closing the door behind him. He stripped off his soaked jacket and headed to the shower, throwing his clothes onto the warm radiator, before turning on the water and washed everything off. It was a quick body shower, and he slipped on whatever was dried enough before curling under the blankets, falling into a deep sleep. 

"I am safe, Sycamore," Lysandre said right into the professor's ear. 

"Arceus!" Sycamore yelped, yanking the coverers to his chest. "What are you doing here?!" 

He relaxed, letting go of the blankets and lidding his eyes. 

"Oh, I get it. A dream." 

Lysandre was leaning over the bed still, hands behind his back. 

"Is this a dream, friend?" 

"Yes, because logistically, how would you be able to find me, unlock my room, and become human in the span of seven hours? And stop calling me that." 

"You have every right to make me stop, friend." 

"I'm not _imagining_ you to say anything!" 

This was true. Sycamore didn't know what Lysandre was going to say next, nor what he going to do. 

"Involuntarily, you are," Lysandre countered. "You want someone in your loneliness so badly that your mind makes me the symbol of a friend." 

"I may be lonely, yes," Sycamore growled. "But you are not my friend. I can't believe I thought you could be someone I could trust and have a friendship with. But now? Now you're just somebody that I used to know." 

"You didn't cut me off, though, Sycamore. I'm still here. Me. As in you are keeping me in your mind." 

"Bee-CUZ, Lysandre," Sycamore snarled, getting off the bed fully clothed and standing over his friend. "You are currently a mutant abomination running amuck around Kalos where I don't know where you are, if you been seen, or even if you're alive! And if you are seen, then I will either have to admit I knew you existed and possibly be arrested for keeping you a secret from government officials or, I will have to deny you and hope I don't get arrested, because if they do find out I was hiding something like you from the world, then I'll be in even deeper trouble! Either way, everyone won't see me the same again, and my reputation will be shattered beyond repair!"

"You're not just worried for yourself," Lysandre concluded. "You're worried about your reputation and my safety." 

Sycamore felt his anger roar and slugged Lysandre in the cheek, before covering his face and slumping onto the edge of his bed. 

"I don't blame you, Sycamore," Lysandre said gently, sitting next to the professor. "And I'm speaking for myself, this time. The pain I inflicted on everyone, including the legendary Pokémon, may never be healed." 

"Will you explode like you always do?" 

"If you truly desire me to." 

Sycamore kept his hands over his face and felt the tears pooling into his palms. 

"I hate these nightmares." 

"Then stop reflecting on what happened, and imagine what will come to be." 

"If that was some cheesy thing I thought of and you're saying it, it sounds really stupid." 

Sycamore laughed nasally at his own comment, and Lysandre (although it wasn't seen) smiled. He put an arm around the professor's back and held him to his chest again. This time, Sycamore excepted it. 

If he was stuck in the endless loop of surreal dreams of Lysandre being the comfort he needed, then he may as well see where this was going. 

"You don't smell like your usual cologne," Sycamore mumbled in Lysandre's jacket. He then remembered Colress's suspicions about the two and realized how weird it was for any man to tell this to his former same-sex friend. "I'm sorry. That came out reallllly gay." 

Lysandre threw back his head and laughed. His deep, booming voice rumbled Sycamore's head as he kept his ear against the Kalosian's chest. The smallest of smiles traced into the corner of Sycamore's lips. Why couldn't this be the Lysandre now? Something hurt in the professor's chest when he wondered who Lysandre would be if he didn't turn into a monster. A funny, caring man? A protective, loving father? A gentle, empathetic brother? 

He didn't know he was crying until a thumb wiped under Sycamore's cheek, brushing away the liquid. 

Lysandre didn't say anything, and Sycamore was aware as there was nothing left to say. Sycamore closed his eyes and remembered the days in the lab where he would pass by Lysandre and get a faint waft of the cologne the proud Kalosian wore. 

Sycamore, just as he remembered it in his memories, smelled it in his surreal dream. 

So, this was it, huh? Stuck in dreams and nightmares while his mind forced him to cope with the man who betrayed him to comfort him. To give him hope and a feeling of peace in mind that everything really was okay and Sycamore would understand that his mind was trying to get closure by making Lysandre apologize for everything he had done. 

But it wasn't real. 

And it never would be. 

Sycamore buried his face into Lysandre's chest, wondering if he would ever hear the empty words "I'm sorry" come out of Lysandre's mouth, knowing that he may never hear those words, those two, worthless words that people use so much for so many things. 

But he knew he wanted to hear them, even though they had no value. 

An "I'm sorry" will never fix everyone's mental state, reverse Ylveltal and Xerneas's troubled form, or get Ash and friend's forgiveness. Life will never be the same for people like Sycamore, who witnessed Lysandre's betrayal firsthand. Ash and his friends would eventually overcome the day they saw the man screaming in pained fear and agony before getting swallowed by the lighted darkness by his own doing. 

Those two words meant nothing, but Sycamore wanted to hear them. He felt himself starting to shake with sobs as he curled up tightly into Lysandre's chest. If this was his private dream, he may as well let himself act like he never would around the public. 

* * *

Lysandre woke up to a pudgy finger poking his face and opened his eyes groggily. His ribs throbbed sharply, but there was nothing he could do about it. 

"Kemono?" Amy Grace said softly. "I got your breakfast." 

She waved a bowl of oatmeal topped with strawberries under his nose. Lysandre grunted with distress, trying to stand in the cage of a room. 

"Oh!" Amy Grace ran to the doors and opened it, where Lysandre got stuck before worming through, shaking himself so his fur wouldn't flatten. "Well, here you go." She followed him and handed him the bowl. "And use the spoon." 

He tweezed the spoon and mimicked how a human would eat relatively well, and the girl applauded him for it. 

"Good job, Kemono!" 

Lysandre handed the bowl back and started to stretch, rolling gratefully onto the grass. He wasn't purring, but he was smiling at how good it felt, even if it was a little wet from the rain. He heard giggling on his side and saw Amy Grace rolling around like he was, making her pajamas coated in water and grass and smeared with dirt. 

He sat up and shook his mane of hair, watching her do the same. She giggled and had all sorts of earthly elements tangled in her hair as she sat up. 

"Why do you do that?" 

To put it simply: it felt good. But Lysandre knew he couldn't communicate it to her, and shrugged. 

"I gotta change!" And she ran to the cabin. Lysandre, his curiosity flaring up, tried to sneak the best he could as he slunk to one of the windows. He stayed out of view but heard the mother shriek through the window.

"Amy Grace! You're filthy!" 

"I was just playing." 

"During breakfast?" 

"Yeah!" 

"But Mimi wasn't with you!" 

"I made a new friend!" 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah!" Amy Grace said in a matter-of-factly tone. "I named him Kemono!" 

"Kemono? As in 'beast?' Honey, why not a nicer name?" 

"I like that name!" 

"Well, alright," the mother said in a dismissive tone. "Go change for the day." 

Lysandre crept away from the building and started to dig for grubs, wondering why he hadn't left yet. He looked up at the clouds and slowly sat down, transfixed by them. They were so peaceful.... and free. He rubbed his neck with the palm of his hand, pleased to feel his blisters were healing, and his skin wasn't chafing against his paw, meaning a layer of skin had started to regrow. 

He didn't know how long he was sitting there until Amy Grace was at his side, poking him. He looked down at her, and she grabbed the fur on his side and tried climbing him to get on his back, and he snorted loudly and eased her off with his tail. 

"I want to ride you!" 

He gave her a look of disgust; he was not some beast of burden for everyone's everyday needs. 

"Please?" 

He turned his back on her and grunted, walking away. 

"I have an idea!" 

And she ran off to the cabin. 

"Amy Grace?" Said her mother in a would-be calm voice as her daughter ran back inside. Amy Grace was always outside. But she always was with Mimi, the Glameow of the house. And seeing them separated wasn't too unusual, but the two were almost always together outside. Did she befriend a Pokémon? When she asked for food for her friend at dinner, she decided to give only three rolls to her daughter, and the basket was empty when she returned. 

"Who's Kemono?" 

"I don't know," Amy Grace said honestly. "But he's big and weird! And he doesn't say his name like a Pokémon would!" 

"Did Kemono destroy our Oran trees?" 

"Lemme ask him!" 

And before she was stopped, Amy Grace ran out of the house and into the forest. 

"Kemono! Kemono!" 

Lysandre's head emerged from the bushes, and he was chewing something. Amy Grace hoped it was red berry juice running down his face and staining his chin. 

"Did you destroy the Oran trees we have?" 

He gave an apologetic nod and ducked back down, where his billowy gray fur was the only thing visible. The girl ran back into the cabin, panting. 

"Yes!" She proudly announced, making her mother jump. 

"You just asked him?" 

"Yeah!" 

"Is he outside, Amy Grace?" 

The girl nodded, smiling. 

"May I see him?" 

Three ladies left the cabin (Mimi was with them) and entered the forest. The mother was worried. Was this where Amy Grace was learning to roll on the floor and walk on all fours like a quadruped? And she suddenly got in the habit to snort when she didn't like something. Was this normal child behavior in exercising imagination? Was she just overthinking this? Maybe Amy Grace was just having fun. But, the mother sighed when she thought this; curiosity killed the Litten, after all. She may as well see who Beast was.

"Kemono! Kemono!" Amy Grace shouted loudly, excited. "He was just here!" 

Mimi sniffed the air and started to slink from the group, mewing softly. The mother noticed and followed the cat, feeling unnaturally jumpy. She watched the Glameow silently walk through the foliage without a sound, before arching her back and hissing loudly. 

"What is it, Mimi?!" 

There he was, standing in the clearing and turned his head toward the noise. The mother clapped her hands over her mouth when she saw him, her knees going weak. 

His hair was long and framed his face like a mane, while a gray cloud of fur protruded from his withers. His chest was a blood red and had midnight black talons, while his glossy hind legs were of the slender stag's, the trim a pale blue. His tail was black and blue, with those horrible horns sticking out of the end. 

But his face. The same profile that gave the ominous warning on all the Holo Casters that fateful day. 

"Oh. My. Arceus," she whispered fearfully. Amy Grace saw him and broke into a smile, running over, but was stopped when she was grabbed by the arm. 

"Mom! That's Kemono!" 

"That's Kemono?!" 

Lysandre started to panic; what should he do? Who was this woman? What did Sycamore say about not being seen? Run! No— approach them! Show he won't hurt them! No! Hide their bodies! No! Be friendly! Smile? Growl? Augh! What do I do?!

He shied nervously like a skittish Deerling, his chest quickening with his breath as he backed up slightly, bumping into a tree. 

"Kemono, it's okay!" 

Amy Grace tried to pull away from her mother, but she shoved her daughter behind her. 

"Tyranitar! Hyper Beam! Now!" 

A Pokéball was thrown into the air, and a massive Tyranitar appeared, inhaling before roaring, shooting out a ray of pure energy at Lysandre. 

Lysandre jumped out of the way as the attack smashed the tree behind him apart with a cloud of splinters. He landed on his front, his heart hammering as he scrambled on all fours and vanishing into the forest like a phantom, disappearing into the darkness. The crunching of bushes transferred into a whisper the further he got.

"Mom!" Amy Grace sobbed. "You scared him!" 

She knew her daughter wouldn't understand, but Lysandre was far scarier as a human than whatever she saw him as just now. What was he? She took a shuddery breath and closed her eyes, and Lysandre's face appeared in the darkness of her eyes, issuing his warning to all of Kalos.

*** 

Lysandre didn't stop running, even when his ribs were begging for relief, and his lungs were burning. His paws were starting to chafe again, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. 

Why did he stay for as long as he did? Was it because of his starved body's wishes? He needed food, and that girl gave him some. Lysandre felt the world blur past him as he refused to slow down, his legs cramping up as they were forced past their limit. 

The sun had risen fully when Lysandre started growing dizzy. He stumbled, stepped wrong, and found himself tumbling down a steep incline. Bellowing in pain, he felt himself crash into some sort of netting before his eyes closed and his body stopped. 

He was nothing more than a bundle of carcass laying innocently in the sun. 

* * *

He knew how to get Lysandre fixed, but here he was. Sitting here pitifully like the sad being he was. Why was he allowing this? To indulge in his sorrow, of course. Here, he was free from the world. Here, he was safe and yet trapped in his internal pain and relief.

"Sycamore?" 

Sycamore looked up and saw Lysandre was watching him. 

"Yes, Lysandre?" 

"Just hold your breath, and know it's not your fault." 

"What?" 

Sycamore thought he heard a heartbeat when he woke up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't do much except fix grammar errors and weak sentence structures. Given the amount of research and homework given, I won't be updating as much. Unless I have another existential crisis and use Sycamore as my outlet for emotions, which may be.... suspiciously soon.


End file.
